


Revealed

by Lothlorienx



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Angst and Feels, Crime, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothlorienx/pseuds/Lothlorienx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the true identity of Red X is revealed, Robin's entire world is turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Robin walked out of the stairwell, and took the back door to the streets, not wanting to be seen. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but still he didn't like people seeing him. Old habits die hard, and the habit of sneaking around–-in uniform or not-–stayed with him.

The night air was damp and cool on his skin. He breathed deep, savoring the taste of salt mixed with wind.

There was still a chill in the air that made goosebumps appear on his skin, despite the hoodie he wore. Burying his hands into his pockets, he trudged along the alleyways, navigating through the thin space before seeing the emergence of street lights break through the dimness.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," said a sly, mechanical voice from above.

He knew that voice. Would know it anywhere. Angered, fists clenching, Robin looked up above him to see the figure of Red X perched on a fire escape above him.

"What do you want?" Robin asked him, not even caring to hide the fact that he was Robin. What would the point be? Besides, he couldn't take it back now. He'd admitted it; it was out there.

"Nothing at all," Red X replied.

"I don't believe that," he shot back at him.

"Doesn't matter what you believe," replied the same smooth, mechanical voice. Red X straightened himself, standing upright as he looked down upon the unmasked Boy Wonder. "Truth of the matter is, I want nothing at all."

A smile stretched across his face behind the mask.

"Because," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flash drive, holding it up to the light, "I already have it."

Robin said nothing, but already was springing into action. Jumping forward, he grabbed the metal rung of the bottom section of the fire escape, pulling him up onto the barred surface just as Red X began to make his escape.

Instead of materializing himself away, he just jumped up higher, running up the ladders as if it were the most normal, most natural thing in the world. Robin was right on his tail, meaning to chase him until he had been caught and the flash drive returned.

For it had to be stolen. Just had to be.

As he ran, Robin pulled the black and white mask out from his pocket, pushing it onto his face quickly and securing it to him. With that settled, he began climbing up the fire escape landings, using complex acrobatic moves as he did so.

Red X paused to look behind him. The Boy Wonder was advancing quickly, but Red X wasn't about to give in so easily. He wanted a chase, and it was a chase that he was going to get. He let Robin get closer to him–-just a little bit more-–before darting away from his standing spot.

He ran fast, his cloak billowing out behind him. With a leap, he soared over the gap between the two buildings, landing perfectly on the brick and concrete roof. Red X didn't stop to look back, didn't have to. He could hear the pounding footsteps of Robin hot on the chase.

A smirk crossed his face, followed by a laugh.

Perfect. Just what he wanted…no sarcasm at all. This was going to be an eventful night, Red X knew. Already the games were beginning, and there was so much more to be said and done.

He allowed himself a small glimpse backwards. There Robin was, running behind him just as he had expected. Robin's face showed no signs of strain or pain or even sweat.

He's in good shape, Red X thought to himself, just as he darted in between two buildings once more.

Red X didn't make it onto the roof, for he wasn't aiming for the roof. He fell down, in between the brick walls of the buildings, before his hands shot up and captured the metal rungs of yet another fire escape. Spiraling, he balanced his feet upon the thin bars of the railing, and nothing else.

Robin landed hard, the metal clanging and echoing with the force of his footfall.

"Game's up, Red," he snarled. Holding out his ungloved hand, he demanded. "Give back what you stole!"

"Stole?" Red X asked, feigning offense. "Are you implying that I stole this–-?" He held up the flash drive once more. Robin lunged for it, but Red X moved out of his way long before he could reach it.

Robin's balance faltered, and already he was pitching forward into the open air. Just for added effect, Red X stuck his foot out to trip him.

"Hey!" Robin cried out as he fell.

He grabbed hold of the rungs, just as Red X knew he would. His body hung from the escape.

"Well, I didn't steal this, Boy Wonder." He spat the words at him. "This is mine. I own it."

The look on Robin's face said that he didn't believe him. Why should he? Literally everything else Red X had stolen, so why should this be any different? And the way he was safeguarding that thing, the way he mocked Robin at not being able to get it…

Had to be stolen.

"Come on, Boy Blunder," Red X said, his demeanor cocky once more. "Catch me if you can," he told him, and clicked a button upon his belt. Robin watched as Red X vanished before his sight…

…and then appeared again, thirty stories up on the top of the roof once more. He gave a small wave with his right hand, and then sent a giant, red x flying his way.

Robin's eyes widened, and just to avoid the capture, he dropped down onto the hard gravel ground just as the x glued itself to the wall. Another snarl tore itself from his throat, and again he went chasing after him.

Robin had no idea how long their game went on, only that it must have been some time. The moon had shifted positions in the sky, the shadows were getting longer and darker, and his body was starting to ache with fatigue.

I've got to end this, he thought frantically.

But every time he got close enough, was just about to catch him and put and end to this, Red X clicked down at his belt and materialized away, leaving Robin with a fistful of empty air.

Desperation was starting to grow within him.

All he needed was one slip up, one little mistake, and he would have Red X. But he was ashamed to admit to himself that he was hoping for a mistake on his foe's behalf. Because he hated that he couldn't catch him himself. Hated that he needed an easy out, because he couldn't do it alone.

Batman's words came back to him, long ago during a dark night in the Batcave. Words about how he still needed guidance, and wasn't ready to go out himself. And stupidly, he'd turned his back on him, told him that Gotham only needed one hero, and left.

"Oof!"

Red X had stopped, suddenly and without warning, and let Robin collide into his body and slam them both down onto the ground.

"The hell?" Robin asked, groaning in pain.

He looked down in the masked face of Red X, suspicion taking over where desperation had just been. This seemed a bit too easy; for Red X to just stop running and let himself be caught. This had TRICK written all over it, in beautiful calligraphy and edged with bright neon lights. Thinking nothing better of it, he slapped him across the face, just to make sure that he was real. His open palm collided with solid flesh and fabric. It was real, it was him. But what was his game? What was his angle?

"That hurt, you know," Red X told him, lifting his head to look up at Robin.

"My apologies," Robin said, but it was clear that he didn't mean it. His voice was too hard, too strict. Red X knew that, for he knew the Boy Wonder a bit too well. A chuckle rose up in his throat as he looked up into Robin's humorless glare.

"What's so funny?" Robin asked.

"Why should I tell you?" Red X asked coyly. The smirk on his face was apparent in the tone of his voice. Cocky, selfish, narcissistic almost. Anger flared up within Robin once more, and he wanted nothing more than to just slap the attitude right off of him.

Without a word, Robin reached for Red X's mask.

A gray, gloved hand clasped around his wrist, twisting it, and before Robin knew what was happening, he was hurdling in the air and then colliding with solid ground, his body letting out screams of pain with each collision. Clutching a hand to his ribcage, Robin looked up to see Red X standing up and dusting himself off.

"Sorry, kid, my identity's my secret." He paused. "Besides, you wouldn't want to know it, anyway."

Robin's growl turned into a scream, and he pushed himself his feet and practically flew at Red X, fists clenched and jaw set. His fist swung into the air, but Red X got out of the way before it could strike him. Robin threw more punches his way, but only was able to make a few of them connect.

Meanwhile, Red X threw his own, striking Robin hard on his chest, and the arms, and in the gut. Robin didn't let is show, though. He would come out the victor in this fight, that much he would make absolutely sure of.

Red X's foot spun into the air, the impressive force apparent with the swishing sound it made in the air, but Robin caught it in his hand before it could kick his face. Red X's eyes widened behind the mask as he realized he was caught. With a smirk of his own, Robin gave a hard pull and spun him into the air before slamming him down onto the ground.

Pain jolted through his entire body, and Red X felt all his nerves throb with a pained, growing ache that reached deep down into his bones and gnawed on the marrow. He didn't groan; he couldn't let any of his pain show. But he couldn't help but clutch an arm to his ribcage, trying to alleviate the dull, pounding ache that made him see spots of light in his vision.

Behind him, he heard Robin getting ready for another strike.

He rolled out of the way just as Robin's flying kick made contact with the ground, just on the spot where he'd been lying only one second earlier.

Pushing himself to his feet, Red X feigned left, seeing Robin take off where he thought him to be going, then launched himself forward to the right. Robin's eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

Red X clicked at his belt, trying to make himself materialize again in someplace new. But he clicked the wrong button, and saw his costume turning transparent before his eyes. When he landed on the ground, pain rippled through his legs and up his spine, making him tumble down face-first into the dirt.

Still, he didn't let any audial clue of his pain escape his lips.

Red X held his hand out in front of him, seeing that it had–-for the most part–-disappeared. He'd activated the invisibility setting by mistake, in his fall from the rooftop to the thin alleyway street.

He'd using the invisibility setting plenty of times before, but never by mistake.

As Robin landed in the alleyway, the puddles splashing around his shoes and jeans as he hunched down, Red X found himself inching back slowly, quietly, to a place where he'd less likely be noticed.

He wasn't entirely invisible. You could still see the outline of his body, if you tried hard enough. And with the way Robin was looking for him, he'd definitely be found.

Red X stayed still and quiet as Robin looked for him.

Robin knew that he couldn't have gotten that far.

Red X waited for him to leave, for Robin to go searching for him someplace far away from where he currently was, laying on the ground and waiting for a break. But such was luck, he didn't. Robin stayed in the alleyway, his eyes scanning every puddled reflection and oddly-shaped shadow.

Damned kid, Red X thought to himself.

Gathering up his strength, Red X waited to strike. All he needed was for Robin to get close enough. Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Red X could almost feel the heat radiating off of his body. Could have reached out and brushed his hand across his leg. Robin's eyes glanced around for a little while more before he made contact with the camouflaged shape of Red X crouched before his feet.

With a grunt, Red X kicked his legs out in front of him, sending Robin flying backwards.

Colors danced before Robin's vision, and the world spun before him as the ground reached up to collide with his legs. He saw Red X about to jump up and spring away, but he wouldn't let him. Not again. Not for the however-many-th time that night.

With a yell, his pain and determination vocalized, he grabbed Red X around the waist, ripping the belt from his body and slamming them both against the brick wall. Red X took the worse of the hit, but Robin's hands felt like they had been broken, or they'd had the skin scraped off of them.

Without hesitation, Robin reached down and ripped the mask from Red X.

"No," he said when he laid his eyes upon Red X. The unmasked Red X.

He took a step backwards, and then another, and then another, before his legs gave out and he fell down to the alley ground and splashed back down into a puddle of water. Unable to stand. Unable to speak. His mind spun before him, trying to figure it out.

How he was right here before him.

Black hair with a streak of white. Green eyes. A bit of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and a dark bruise spread across the left side of his face, running down along his cheek. A face he'd know anywhere.

"…Jason…?" Robin whispered.

Jason looked up. His breathing was ragged, and he still clutched at his ribcage. There was a savage look in his eyes, but one that Robin knew all too well. It was more than savage, knowing Jason. Robin seemed to slump down, his entire body giving out with the weight of the burden. The burden of what he currently saw.

"Good to see you too, Dick," Jason said, another smirk crossing his face.

Robin didn't even care. This was too much for him to handle.

"You're…" he swallowed hard, "You're supposed to be dead."

"Am I?" he asked with a dark chuckle. He stopped when more pain shot through his lungs, cutting him off. He grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and lowered his gaze to the ground as he tried to push past the pain.

"How…?" Dick tried to ask, but his words died off.

"Find out for yourself," Jason said, and tossed Dick the flash drive. Dick didn't catch it, but let it splash in the puddle next to him. Jason groaned as he struggled to push himself upright. When he reached down to pull the Red X mask free from Robin's hand, it slid away from him easily.

"Tell Bruce I said hi, if you two still talk," Jason said, and reached for the belt clutched in Robin's other hand.

Without another word, Red X–-Jason–-pressed the button upon his belt and vaporized away from Robin's sight, leaving him sitting in a puddle in a dark alleyway, beaten up and left to think over what he'd just seen.


	2. Chapter 2

Robin very specifically remembered that when he had plucked the flash drive from the puddle of muddy water, the cap had been on it. But, such was luck, the device still had water damage.

He cursed, and had to resist the urge to pick up his computer and throw it across the room. Images of broken machinery littered amongst the investigation room was the only thing that stopped him. Well that, and the fact that every single computer was important.

A groan escaped him, and he slammed his face into his now-gloved palm.

Robin ran his hand through his jet black strands of hair a moment later, trying to calm himself down. This wasn't the end of the world. But it had shaken his world; almost completely shattered it.

Jason. His brother. Back from the dead.

He kept playing the scene over and over in his head, trying to convince himself that he'd imagined it. That he'd had a overly realistic dream that involved Jason clothed in the guise of Red X, and that when he woke he hadn't remembered that he'd been dreaming.

Or that his mind had played some kind of vile trick on him. He'd been punched too many times, and things were starting to go hazy around the edges of his sight, and that things were spinning, and that he'd hallucinated that he'd saw the face of his long-lost brother beneath that mask.

But no.

That couldn't have been it. And so he could only put his head in his hands and let silent screams reverberate around his skull as he thought things through, and replayed the visuals of his memory over and over again.

Robin knew that that flash drive, whatever the hell was on it, had to be important. Maybe it had some clue as to what had happened, or-he hoped against hope-it would have the entire story of Jason's life after his death. It was like a fevered dream running across his imagination; the complete story of what the hell had happened with Jason, how he was here now.

"Jason," Robin hissed out on his breath.

Tears were starting to sting his eyes.

"Computer trouble?" Robin heard a bright, strong voice say from the threshold of the room. He looked up to see Cyborg standing in the doorway, blocking out most of the light that attempted to flood the room from the hallway.

"You could say that," Robin replied in a deadpan voice.

Without thinking, Robin pulled his green gloves and dual-colored mask off of himself, and set them both down on the desk next to the uncapped flash drive. The tears were still burning at his eyes, flooding them, threatening to spill over. Stress was staring to get to him, but that wasn't the reason the tears had started forming.

Jason.

He stared hard at the device, as if he could hack into it with just his eyes.

If only he had that power.

"Well, let me see," Cyborg said, walking over to the edge of the wooden desk that Robin was slumped behind. He picked up the ruined flash drive in his mechanical hand, and held it up to his eyes for inspection. He slowly turned it this way and that, making the silver protruding from the black glint in the light.

Robin watched with hard eyes. Bloodshot eyes. Eyes that were red and purple around the edges, and seemingly to be stained with coffee in the same way that some of the old case files were. All from long, hard nights.

"I think that it can be fixed," Cyborg said.

"Really!" Robin shouted, all too loud. He sprang up from his desk, knocking over the chair and making it collide with the ground in a cacophony of loud, crashing noises. Cyborg winced at the sound, but Robin didn't seem to notice any of this. His only focus was on the flash drive held in Cyborg's hand.

"Yeah..." Cyborg said after the longest of times. "It can be done."

Pause.

"So what happened with this anyway? I suspect a bit of water damage...or really any kind of rough exposure to the elements for a long period of time."

Robin cursed himself within his head. If only he hadn't of sat in that damned alleyway for so long, letting the capped and closed flash drive lay in the muddy puddle, while he tried to pick up the pieces of his scattered brain. Pick up the pieces of his brain and then pick up the wet, black device from the puddle.

It had nearly been lost in the shadows, so he'd grabbed it with wet and mud-soaked hands. Back in present time, Robin shook his head once more. Furious with himself for both what he had and hadn't done.

If he went back to that point in time, he would have never of let that flash drive hit the puddle in the first place. Never have let it fall to the ground. But then again, if he did go back in time, he think he'd spend ever more time staring at Jason's face, just to make sure that it really was Jason.

Not an illusion or a mirage or a bad dream that made him feel lost and lonely and enraged.

"How long?" Robin asked.

"What?" Cyborg asked, clearly off put by the question.

He was walking over to the other desks, made of metal instead of wood, that boasted an impression selection of all the latest technology. Courtesy of Cyborg, of course. The wheeled chair slid out easily enough as he took a seat, then rolled himself back up to the desk.

"How long before that file is readable?" Robin hissed out his question, his teeth grit.

"I dunno..." Cyborg's voice trailed off. "Maybe an hour? Two hours? Four tops."

"Four!" Robin shouted. He didn't think he could wait that long. He rushed over to where Cyborg sat, and slammed his hands on the desk, staring at the computer with wild eyes...then directed his almost feral stare at Cyborg.

"Dude, chill," Cyborg replied. "What's so important about this flash drive?"

How did Robin even begin to describe it? How did he tell his teammate, one of his closest friend for years now, that his supposedly dead brother wasn't dead and that this was a 'gift' from him? He couldn't; not really. Not without having to go into great detail about his past and personal life. And that was something he truly didn't want.

Not only would it expose a whole bunch of secrets that he didn't want known, but it would bring up bitter memories. Memories that he had tried so hard to forget, to repress, to sweep under the metaphorical rug of his mind and pretend like they didn't exist. Memories that, once brought to the life once more, would reduce him to something less than himself.

He wouldn't be Robin. He wouldn't be Dick. He would be the broken, grieving brother who had yet again lost a part of his family. An empty shell of a person weeping at a gravesite, in front of a slab of stone, polished and carved with a name that had meant so much to him.

"Just trust me," Robin said, his voice now level. "It's an important piece of..."

Evidence?

It wasn't evidence, for it wasn't part of a crime. He didn't think. Any thoughts about the flash drive being stolen vanished from his mind the second he pulled that mask off of Jason's face.

"It's important," Robin stated plainly.

Cyborg watched his face for a minute, trying to figure out just what was wrong with his friend. His eyes ran over each of Robin's features, unmasked, as he tried to deduce what he now expected to be something secretive. Something secretive and grand in stature. Cyborg would be lying if he said that small things like this didn't make that big an impact on him, didn't have this kind of effect on him. For things both small and inconceivably large made him stress.

But this?

Cyborg didn't know.

"Don't worry, Robin," Cyborg said, making an effort to keep his voice light and easygoing. He clapped a hand to Robin's shoulder, and let a wide smile stretch across his face. "Whatever is on this flash drive, I should be able to wrangle it out into the open!"

Robin sighed with relief. His body slumped as the tension eased away from his muscles.

Feeling sympathetic, understanding, and oddly generous all at once, Cyborg added, "And, if you want, I won't look at what's on this drive." Cyborg saw a smile crack across Robin's weary face, and he knew that this was indeed something secretive. Something he didn't want shared with the team.

Cyborg only hoped that this wasn't something that involved Robin and his personal demons. Not always would he be the victor in that battle.

"I better get to work," Cyborg murmured, and turned to the water damaged flash drive. "You gonna stay here while I work, or are you gonna get some sleep." He turned to face Robin. "Heaven knows you need it."

Robin shook his head. "I'm gonna stay right here," he replied.

Cyborg heaved a heavy sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin was out on the streets again the next night. Mask on, gloves pulled up to the elbows, and his cape falling around his shoulders and covering up the bright red and green of his shirt. The black exterior made it easier for him to blend in with the shadows of the night. Bruce would be proud, Robin thought bitterly. Even as the words ran through his mind, he doubted they would be true.

He sat high up on the top of a five story building, crouched down on the brick ledge and listening to the soft drone of the giant air conditioners, their blades lazily spinning. Below, the people thronged in the streets and sidewalks, but no one cared to look up. No one ever did look up.

If there was any place that you could hide from someone and be confident that you would never be seen, it was above them.

But of course, other people knew this secret as well.

Robin was positive that he would run into Red X tonight...Jason. All he had to do was wait and be patient. He'd show up, he always did. A petty thief like him didn't need to go into hiding, because he knew that the Titans always had worse problems than him. But crime had been down lately. Even with the team currently shorthanded, Robin could wait for him. He knew it wouldn't be long. His communicator was in his hand, gripped tightly, with him waiting to feel it vibrating and hear it shrill sound of alert and see it flash red on top.

Just wait, Robin thought.

His patience was already worn thin. Cyborg had kicked him out of the computer room after Robin had nearly ripped his hair out as he waited and waited for him to fix the flash drive. Cyborg had said he needed to relax, and told him to get out. Robin had put up a fight, shouted some angry words, and it ended with Cyborg almost literally throwing him out of the room. He'd stomped around and paced in front of the locked door for nearly an hour after that, before he thought of getting out and searching for Red X once more.

Four hours my ass, Robin thought.

It'd been a day and a half.

So now, here he was. Crouched down in hiding, on the roof of a jewelry store with polished gems and cut diamonds and precious metals locked up inside. No thief could resist the glint and glimmer…

It seemed almost like a game of cat and mouse to him, with Robin as the cat, waiting for the mouse to try to come out of his hole in the wall so he could devour it. But, Robin thought as time went on with no word from Cyborg or the police reports, maybe he was the mouse in this case. And Jason the cat.

A sigh threatened to be torn from his lungs. One that wouldn't relieve his stress, so there was no point in it. But it escaped him nonetheless.

"You're still not fooling anyone," came a voice from behind him.

Son of a…

Robin whipped around, angrily meeting the figure of Red X, a good ten yards away from him on the opposite side of the building. His jaw clenched as he looked at him, for even though he knew it was Jason, he still hated the sight of his Red X suit being paraded around in.

How Jason had stolen it from him…well, it became a bit clearer now. Someone that knew him so well, as well as studied Bruce's stealth abilities, and some of his own hacking abilities… Yeah, it was easy to see now.

"Good to see you, again," Robin said, though they both knew he didn't mean it.

"You too, chuckles," Red X told him back.

They still stood their ten yards apart, both of them keeping their distance, as if the other one would suddenly strike out and wound them. Spit and fire and claws. So they circled around each other on the roof like there was a force field around their opponent that neither could break.

"Jason…" Robin said after a while. He thought maybe he could break through that skull mask of his, and see him for who he really was once more. He remembered, when he'd first pulled off his mask, that all his drive had gone out of him and he didn't want to fight anymore. Only understand.

What the hell had happened? Why is Jason here? Why is he alive?

"Dick," Jason returned, his voice robotic underneath the mask.

"Why are you here?" Robin asked, as if that somehow summed up every question he had burning within him. His voice wasn't cruel or accusing, but rather pleading. He wanted so badly to know.

"Thought about stealing some jewels," Red X replied, the eye slits in the mask narrowing. "But more than that, I couldn't end the night without seeing you. I just know how disappointed you would be if you didn't see me at all tonight." He was outright mocking him, but Dick didn't seem to care.

Something unusual for him. But this was Jason. His brother.

Not by blood, but still his brother.

"I must say, Dickie, I'm touched," Red X said, putting a hand to his chest, the gray glove covering the X slashed across the black suit.

"Don't call me that!" Robin spat at him, all his anger and fire returning to him then. Red X. Red X. Another criminal, the person he hated–

No, he didn't hate him. Not anymore.

"Oh, come on, birdie boy. I used to call you Dickie all the time. At least, I'm fairly certain I did. My memory isn't...complete...you see." A harsh laugh cracked through the mechanical voice filter. Robin nearly flinched at the sound, but he wouldn't allow himself to show any emotion other than willpower to the criminal before him.

"What do you mean it isn't complete?" Robin forced himself to ask.

The eyes of the skull mask widened. "You don't know?!" Red X asked, sickly amused at Robin's ignorance. "I would have thought that the prodigy of the world's greatest detective would've figured it out by now." There was a tightening in Red X's…Jason's…voice as he spoke.

A tightness that Robin knew. Still, he didn't let his resolve break. Red X. Red X.

"Guess I was wrong," Red X said, continuing on with his taunting. But this time, as the words left his lips and filtered through the voice altering machine, Robin could still pick up the somber tone that he now used.

"Guess you were," Robin agreed, his voice quiet. It was hardly carried on the wind, but rather died a few paces from his place on the roof. His lips seemed dull and his throat suddenly ached. Again, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He blinked them away behind the mask.

"Don't get sentimental on me, Bird Boy!" Red X called out. His voice was back to his normal tone. Cocky and snide, completely vacant of any emotions that may have given away his mental state, his personal demons.

Robin hardened immediately. His tears dried instantly.

"Well, catch you later," Red X said, and pressed the button upon his silver belt, making him transport in the air, his molecules vanishing and leaving Robin standing on the roof alone once more.

He thought of what just transpired. He'd almost duped himself into believing that Red X had left him, when the realization hit him like a boulder. With a grunt, Robin ran over to the edge of the building once more, shooting out the grappling hook, and swinging down further towards the windows. Sure enough, inside of the jewelry store, he saw the quick flash of a cape rounding the corner.

"God damn it," Dick muttered, and went in after him. Back up to the roof, and then in through the ventilation system, kicking out the vent cover from the wall and dropping down onto his feet in the jewelry store.

This place had to be rigged. Laser systems on the store floor and in the air, sensors trained to pick up movement. Or heat sensors, or monitors that would let them know if someone had just broken in through their vent system. But everything was suspiciously quiet.

Robin ran in the direction he'd seen the flash of the black cape, thinking that if Jason hadn't tripped the sensors, why should he?

He rounded the corner quickly, only to see the same small flash of a black and gray cloak darting away from him. He kept following until Red X concluded the chase by smashing the glass cases that were in the next room. Sharp, deadly shards of glass sprayed all over the room, and on Robin. He put his hands up to defend himself.

The alarms sounded then, a shrill siren that drilled into his ears and made his vision hazy. Red lights flashed. Robin pushed through all of this, and still went after Red X. He fought him, trying to land a punch, but Red X darted out of the way just as he scooped up jewelry made of pure diamonds and platinum.

Robin's fist drove into the wall, crushing the plaster. With an angry shout, Robin ran forward again, taking out the metal staff that he had hidden away. The metal snapped out, and Robin meant to strike Red X, but only ended up shattering yet another glass case. The shards were almost embedded within his eyes, had it not been for the mask to catch them and shield them.

"Thanks, Dick," Red X said in a low voice as he scooped up necklaces of garnets and emeralds, all strung together on platinum and pure gold. "Saves me the work of having to do it myself."

"Cut the crap, Jason!" Robin shouted back, and threw the staff at him. It landed straight into Red X's chest, near the solar plexus, and it sent him reeling, desperately clutching his chest as he waited for the pain to ebb and catch his breath.

"I don't think so," Red X snarled, and kicked his feet up just as Robin ran forward, handcuffs at the ready.

Right in the gut. Robin doubled over, and Red X took this as an opportunity to kick him in the head. He brought his leg up to the side, striking Robin and making his ears ring, and he was knocked to the floor. Black flooded his vision as the world spun around him, the ringing in his ears sharp, and every other sound dimming into nothing.

A groan escaped him as he tried to get up off the ground. He saw Red X give him a wave goodbye, heard him mumble something (no doubt one of his sarcastic remarks), and then turn tail and materialize away with the press of a button.

That was the last thing Robin remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

Robin had blacked out. When he awoke, it was to the darkness and the quiet, the still and the calm. His head swam and his temples ached; his jaw was pounding with pain that had lasted all through unconsciousness.

Slowly peeling his eyes back was a difficult task. But he managed it. Darkness, stillness, quietness. It eased the discomfort within him. He couldn't feel his body yet, for nothing was registering. He didn't think he could feel anything, but eventually his senses slowly came back to him. The light of the moon returned his sight to him gradually. Beneath him were sheets upon a hospital bed; beside him a drowsy Cyborg who had fallen asleep in a plush chair.

Robin grunted as he tried to move.

Cyborg heard and he lazily opened up his eyes. "You're awake," he mumbled, stifling a yawn. "At last. After that hit, I thought you'd be out for a couple more hours…"

A yawn did stretch across his face then.

Pushing himself to his feet, Cyborg walked over to stand at the edge of Robin's bed. He looked down at him tiredly, trying to take in his physical and mental state simply by the look in his unmasked eyes and the expression on his face. It was clear that Robin was still out of it; his pupils dwarfed his irises, his jaw was slightly agape, and there was a glazed over look in his eyes. He was trying to put things together, but he couldn't.

"Red X knocked you out," Cyborg told him, not waiting for him to remember. "He broke into a jewelry store somewhere uptown, you followed him in, he kicked you really hard in the head, and you were out of it…"

Pause.

"The ambulance actually wanted to take you away, and put you in a hospital for you to recover, but I was adamant about taking you back here to the Tower to get treatment. Can't have your secret identity compromised, now can we?" Cyborg asked him.

The only response Robin could manage was a low, pitiful groan.

With a sigh, Cyborg pulled the chair up to the side of the bed Robin lay on, and sat down once more. He felt tired; so tired. More tired than he had been in days, in weeks. Decoding the water-damaged flash drive was tricky enough, but add this to a short handed team and a team leader who just didn't know when to quit. He felt old suddenly, and someone his age shouldn't be feeling old. That's what he had always believed, at least.

"Your in the medical bay, back home," Cyborg told Robin, his voice soft and somber. It complimented the quietness of the night, and the stillness of the hour.

12:52 a.m.

That's what the clock read.

Robin groaned once more, then tried to roll over. His body ached, and his muscles felt as stiff as wood. Still, he tried limbering himself, making his body respond to his silent commands as he shifted over onto his side. When his temple pushed up against the soft, cushiony pillow, Robin winced in pain, and a couple of tears rolled free from his eyes.

"Careful," Cyborg warned him. "That's where Red X got ya."

Robin made a gurgle of words, but it was all unintelligible. Cyborg wasn't attempting to understand him anyway. He knew that the injured Boy Wonder wouldn't be able to talk, or even function properly, for another few hours. At least he was awake; something that Cyborg had predicted would happen around dawn.

But two words met Cyborg's ears, clear as day.

"Red…X…" Robin hissed out.

Cyborg saw that his eyes were closed. He didn't know if he was talking in his sleep (or even if he was asleep), or if Robin was trying to tell him something, ask him something. Communicate something to him about this villain.

"Red…X…" Robin hissed out again, and Cyborg leaned forward, closer to his face.

I don't think he's dreaming, Cyborg thought to himself.

"Robin…?" he asked carefully, not wanting to wake him should he have dropped off again. Robin slid his eyes open a sliver, something that took far too much effort on his part, and he hissed out the villain's name once more. Cyborg knew then that he was trying to tell him something.

"What is it?" Cyborg asked, slowly, quietly.

"The…the flash drive?" Robin asked with a sharp intake of breath. He couldn't hide his pain or his discomfort, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't unbreakable, and tonight, he was broken.

Cyborg knew that was the best way to describe Robin, right then and there. Broken. Defeated. Something had gotten to him, broken him up into small pieces, and left him like this. It started with his mind, the way it had snaked into his brain and consumed him until it was all Robin could focus on. And then, once it had infiltrated him on the inside, the final blow was a swift kick to the head, a strike on the outside.

And now, here he lay.

Still refusing to let himself heal. To let the pieces simply lay on the floor for a few minutes, for him to marvel at the beauty of the edges of the shards and study at the pattern at which they lay. He only wanted to put himself back together, as haphazardly as possible, and then refuse to admit that he'd been broken like that.

He was so easy to read.

So easy.

"The flash drive?" Robin asked once more, a bit louder this time.

"I'm still working on it," Cyborg told him. "You need to get some sleep. You aren't even supposed to be awake yet. I'd measured the morphine out specifically so you wouldn't have woken up till morning." He shook his head, and leaned back in his chair. The giant window of the medical bay let in the moonlight in all its glory. "Robin, be honest," Cyborg said, looking only at the moon, "Red X gave you that flash drive, didn't he?"

"Yes," Robin said with a sigh.

He sounded like he was about to fall back asleep. Pulling his eyes away from the pale face of the moon and placing them on the pale face of Dick, he saw that his eyes had closed once more, his jaw had slackened, and the pained look had faded away. He was about to fall asleep again. Cyborg knew this. Reaching up, he gave the morphine bag a minuscule squeeze to fill his veins a bit more, and then walked away.

As he exited the room, he locked the door behind him. Somewhere deep in the back of his head, something told him what a terrible idea that was. That he shouldn't leave Robin locked in anywhere. A thousand different worst-case scenarios raced across his mind as the bolt slid into place, but he told himself that this was for the best–-forced himself to believe it–-and left it like that.

He has his communicator, Cyborg reassured himself. Placed right by his head, where he can easily grab it and call for me. Nothing to worry about.

Still, the words sounded hollow.

A wild idea occurred to him then; the idea of going back and strapping Robin to the bed, just to make sure that nothing worse would occur. But the idea was quickly pushed away; even in Cyborg's fatigued and slightly loopy state, he didn't need to be told that that was an all around awful idea.

The flash drive was now in Cyborg's bedroom. As the mechanical door marked CYBORG slid open, it was the first thing that caught his eye. It seemed to have an evil glint to it, like malice within a villain's glare. Stepping into the room, with the door closing behind him, Cyborg vowed to himself not to touch the thing until morning. The desire to work on it more, to heal if of the water damaged that had seeped into it and ruined it, to hack into it and crack all the codes and tear down all the barriers…it was there, as strong as ever.

But his will was stronger.

He turned to the bed. A plain, simply mattress, covered with blankets, sitting on a bed frame. It would have been normal, if not for the freakish amount of wires that lay upon the mattress, waiting to be plugged into him so the robotics that made up most of his body could be recharged.

But he didn't have time for reminiscing about a once normal life. He was too tired. Slumping into the bed, he clicked the cords and wires into himself, pulled the blankets over him, and flicked out the light. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, trying to fall into a dream. But it just wouldn't happen, no matter what he tried.

Even amping up the specific sleep chemicals in the chips of his brain didn't work; he still laid away that night.

When he flicked the light back on, that same evil glint seemed to come from the flash drive again. It stared at him, as if mocking him, choking him with its hidden secrets. He pouted.

If only I could get that thing… Wait. Don't I have a USB drive somewhere on me?

His fingers immediately went up to the mechanical side of his head, back behind where his artificial ear was. With the slight artificial nerve endings, he was able to feel the indention of the cover over it. He flicked it open, exposing the mechanical sockets. He ran his fingers over the opening once more, just to make sure, and then went for the flash drive.

This could be dangerous, said a voice in his head.

He didn't listen to that voice.

Uncapping the small, black drive, he took it and stuck it into his head. Immediately he felt the connection of more power, of foreign energy, and information that was jutting up against the walls of his brain but not readable. He could feel the flash drive like a thorn in his side, and he shifted it around in his head.

Laying back down, he toyed with it more. Until he realized that it was going to take mental work on his part to break through it. Not anything with firewalls and security codes and encryption keys, but brainpower. Real brainpower from the organic powerhouse he'd been born with.

A smirk crossed Cyborg's face as he slid his eyes closed. He knew that by the time the sun had risen, he would have broken through it, and uncovered whatever secrets lay hidden within the damaged device.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a bit like trying to figure out arithmetic on soggy paper. And from there, trying to read legal documentations on soggy paper. Either way, everything was soggy and wet. It felt a bit like trying to push through a wet sponge.

Cyborg worked through all of it, anyway. Because he loved a challenge, and this was one challenge that he just simply couldn't pass up.

There wasn't anything that was keeping him out. There was no password, no safety features whatsoever. Just a plain and simple flash drive that was damaged so much it had nearly reverted back to a blank setting. Cyborg woke up once or twice during the night, when he thought he felt some of the circuits in his brain short-circuiting.

He feared internal water damage might have been happening to him, but his fears were soon laid to rest when he checked over everything. He tried to remind himself that his machinery was built for water and wetness, just the way an organic human body would have. But still, deep down where the wires were, he was still vulnerable.

Cyborg laid back down, closing his eyes and focusing in on the soggy information that he was desperately trying to read and make sense of. It was coming together slowly, like a giant, three-dimensional puzzle. By the time the sun had rose the next morning, he'd put the entire thing together.

"Not the best sleep in the world," Cyborg mumbled to himself as he pulled the flash drive out of his head, "but not worst, either."

There was nothing exciting on the flash drive, Cyborg had come to realize as he had shifted throughout the documents. Nothing he was too thrilled to tell Robin about either. He didn't know what exactly Robin was expecting from the flash drive, but he knew Robin well enough to know that he was expecting something far grander than a bunch of Arkham files.

Cyborg was in no rush to check on Robin. He didn't want to face the music just yet. He didn't want to get to the medical bay only to find that Robin had awoken in the night and had done…who the hell even knows. Nor did he want to walk in there and find him gone…which meant that he would have to track him down again…and maybe, just maybe, save his ass.

Best case scenario: he was still fast asleep in the hospital bed, with the covers pulled up over him, still drowsy from the morphine, and his body having healed at least partly.

After freshening up, going through his morning routine twice, he picked up the flash drive and made his way down the halls to the medical bay.

He held his breath as he approached the door. He kept thinking, Please be sleeping, over and over again in his head like religious chants. Please be sleeping, Cyborg though, each step bringing him closer to the closed threshold. Once in front of it, he stalled, not wanting make the metal slide open just yet.

Please be sleeping! Cyborg thought once more, taking a deep breath and punching the open button.

He released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Robin was still in bed, safe and sound. Asleep. Luck be upon him, Robin hadn't done anything drastic at all. All his IVs were still in place, though Cyborg noticed that he had taken the morphine needle out of his arm sometime in the night. His skin had bruised where the needle had gone in, and his flesh was slightly swollen, but that didn't matter.

Cyborg listened to his breath, and concluded that he was still asleep.

Perfect, Cyborg thought, a genuine smile upon his face.

As quietly as he could, he slid a chair over to the computers that were in the corner of the room, and sat down in front of them. He clicked the monitor on, for it had been so long since anyone had used these computers. They were mostly used to store the health and medical records of the Titans, and then transfer them to various external hard drives. But hey-–they could do pretty much anything.

The flash drive was plugged in and the faint whir of a heating up monitor filled the room. Cyborg glanced back at Robin, to see if the noise had woken him. Nothing. Sound asleep. Bless whatever was looking out for him.

The flash drive-–unnamed and still damaged–-showed up on the screen. Cyborg clicked it, and all the files opened up for him. He scanned through them repeatedly, trying to see if they were the same files that he had seen in his dreams.

They were.

Pressing down the arrow button, the next document appeared on the screen, the words stark against the pure black. Cyborg's eyes read quickly, then he moved on to another file. All seemed to be in place. His mind hadn't been playing tricks on him. It was just a bunch of old Arkham files. That, and a couple of police records, too, scattered here and there. Cyborg noticed, as he flicked through the documents, that they were focused on the Joker more than anyone else. Certain things were highlighted in places, and certain text was bolded. Most were recent documents, but some stretched far back into past years.

"Uhh," groaned a voice beside him.

Turning, he saw Robin starting to stir. His eyelids were twitching, and with a dramatic yawn he languidly stretched out his muscles. But he didn't open his eyes, or get out of bed then. He stayed covered up, laying on his side, bundling up the blankets to him and resting easy.

Bless whatever was looking out for him.

Cyborg's attention went back to the monitor. Joker files, Joker files, a file on Two-Face, a file on Ra's Al Ghul–-something handwritten it looked like–-and more Joker files. He ran his hands over his face.

"Cyborg," Robin called softly, when his eyes had finally peeled back, breaking the sand that had crusted over his lids.

"Hey. Good morning," Cyborg said back, his voice low enough to almost be a whisper. "You look better than you did last night." Dammit. That was probably the wrong thing to say. Wouldn't all the memories from what had transpired come rushing back to him now, slamming into him like a train and making him bolt out of the bed?

Fuck his health, Robin would say.

"I feel better than I did last night," Robin said back, and his eyes slid shut again. He rested.

"Bless," Cyborg murmured underneath his breath.

"What?" Robin asked, picking his head up from the pillow and looking over at his friend. Even with sleep still thick on his face, and clouding his mind, Cyborg could see that he was already trying to focus on what he was saying.

"Nothing, nothing," Cyborg said, waving a hand into the air. "Just…talking to myself. You know how it is," he said with another wave.

"Yeah, I guess," Robin replied. His words were slurred. Another yawn broke across his face, and his body stretched out once more. Eyes closing, face buried into the pillow, body cocooned.

Should I tell him now or later? Cyborg wondered.

He decided on later.

"Hey, Cyborg," Robin's voice drifted through the soft, morning air. Hair ruffling on the pillow as he shifted.

"Huh?"

"Did you get anything off the flash drive?" he asked.

There goes my luck, Cyborg thought. He felt like he was falling into a pit, then. His body slumped as he thought about Robin's question, and about how he would answer. He put a hand to his forehead, as if that would somehow help him. God, why did Robin have to ask that question so damn early in the morning? Damned if he knew.

"Yeah, I did," Cyborg mumbled, his voice not reaching all the way across the room. He did not want to answer that question; not honestly, not in a lie. Avoiding it wasn't much of an option either; Robin would pry, and that would just make him on edge.

"Good," Robin breathed, his face back on the pillow.

"Good?" Cyborg asked, confused. Robin hadn't sat upright and demanded he tell him, not got up and went straight for the computers. That was unlike him. Cyborg's shock showed on his face, but no one noticed. Still, what the hell?

Red X must of really beat him up to have this effect on him, Cyborg thought. How hard a hit did he take to the head?

He sprung up from the chair and went to stand next to the bed. He checked Robin's vitals: all was as it should be. "Hey, Rob?" Cyborg prodded. "You feelin' okay?"

"Eh," was all he said.

"You seem kinda…out of it," Cyborg continued on, hoping for an explanation.

"I am out of it." Robin spun over onto his back, and crossed his arms on his chest, overlapping his hands. "I guess I'm just…thinking of a lot of things right now."

"Like what?" Cyborg asked him, his brow furrowing. "You got kicked in the head. Pretty violently, too. What can you possibly be thinking about? Ya know, besides the massive headache that you should have?"

"Like why I'm into hero work," Robin breathed out.

Cyborg had not been expecting that.

"Why you're…? Dude, stop playin' around! We all know why you're into hero work. You like helping people. You stand for truth, justice. All those things that you'd grown up with."

"I grew up with a lot of things…" Robin said. He couldn't hide the strain in his voice. A lump was in his throat, and it was hard to talk past it. Let alone talk without it being noticed. It was like a lump of charcoal within him.

A long moment of silence drifted between the two of them.

The sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating the crisp, monochromatically-colored infirmary. Clouds turned from soft pinks and purples to cottony whites, with the sky lightening to its normal blue. The slight warmth provided by the mid-autumn sun started to filter through the windows, giving Robin enough heat to finally make him kick his blankets off of him.

"Yeah," Cyborg whispered, only to himself. "You're definitely out of it."


	6. Chapter 6

The water was cool and refreshing against his skin. Robin cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed the cold water against his face again. It soothed him, but more importantly, it brought him clarity. Woke him up from whatever drug Cyborg had given him.

He'd reviewed the flash drive, again and again, and all he saw were the old Arkham documents that Cyborg said would be there. He searched for more, until he realized what exactly he was looking at.

Jason had been killed by the Joker…or at least, Robin thought that he had been killed by the Joker. And then he happens to have a flash drive containing every single detail about the Joker's life ever since his death...

It left a sour taste in Robin's mouth.

And on top of all of it, Robin was left unsure yet again of whether or not the flash drive had been stolen. And if not the flash drive, surely the information on it was stolen? Normally, files like those weren't open to the public. Was Jason considered the public? Shit, he didn't know.

"Robin! Breakfast!" he heard Cyborg calling from the other room.

"Be there in a minute," Robin shouted back.

As Robin stood in front of the mirror, eyes locked on his own reflection, his mind was busy decoding each little question that entered his mind and refused to leave. Not without an explanation, at least.

The flash drive? That itself could have been anyone's guess, but the information was definitely stolen. There was no other way. But then there was the question of what Jason happened to be doing watching him, waiting for him to come out of the building just so he could call him out and lead him on some wild chase. Maybe there was a bit of the old Jason still inside of him, the one that liked fun and games; not the one who'd turned from catching robbers into a robber.

Well, at least some things don't change, Robin thought bitterly.

"Robin!" came Cyborg's voice once more.

"Coming," Robin said, knowing that he could delay no more. And to think that Cyborg's more patient than me, Robin thought to himself as he walked from the bathroom to the kitchen. He pulled his gloves on as he walked.

When he entered the main room, he was immediately struck by the smell of frying eggs and bacon. Cyborg was cooking away, oddly happy. But then again, why shouldn't he be happy? Robin thought. It wasn't his life that had been turned upside down, with everything he thought he knew to be wrong.

"I made them to perfection!" Cyborg told Robin, as he pushed a plate over to him.

"Thanks," Robin said, too hungry to pretend not to be. He ate slowly, picking through his food. Cyborg noticed something was still wrong with him. After the night he'd had in the infirmary, it would be normal to expect as much. But with Robin, Cyborg could never be sure.

"I've added maple to the bacon," Cyborg told him, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, good," Robin mumbled in reply, but Cyborg knew that he hadn't been listening.

"Still thinking about the flash drive?" Cyborg asked him, cutting right to the chase. Small talk was meaningless right now, and Cyborg couldn't beat around the bush forever. Out in the open with it, he thought to himself.

"The information is stolen, that much I know," Robin exclaimed, his thoughts coming out into the open finally. Once he started talking, he couldn't hold back anymore. All of it came pouring out of him, as his jumbled mind tried to make sense of it all. "I mean, that kind of information has gotta be locked down. And J–-Red X has-–had it on the flash drive! Then he just flicked it at me when he was done with it."

"How do you know he was done with it?" Cyborg asked him, before scooping another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Why else would he give it to me? If he still had use of it, then he wouldn't have just handed it off…"

Robin let his words linger in the air. His train of thought came to an abrupt stop.

Cyborg knew that there was something Robin wasn't telling him, something major to this entire plot that he wasn't in on. He wasn't a detective, but Cyborg knew that it had to be something personal. Besides, he'd heard Robin stutter right before saying, Red X.

"Robin, what aren't you telling me?" Cyborg came right out and asked.

Robin shook his head. His eyes were hard on his plate of food. He hadn't put his mask on yet, so Cyborg could see how red-rimmed they were. Like he'd been crying, almost. Surely it couldn't have been because he hadn't gotten enough sleep; Cyborg had made sure that he slept through the night.

But then again, maybe he had faked it and stayed up until the moon had set and the sun had risen.

"How'd you sleep?" Cyborg asked him. When Robin didn't answer, Cyborg tapped his fork on Robin's plate, creating a loud, metallic ringing throughout the room. When Robin looked up at him, he repeated his question.

"I slept fine," Robin snapped.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

A taut moment of silence came over the both of them. The air was thick with tension, and both seemed reluctant to break it. Like glass shattering into a million pieces, someone was bound to get hurt.

Should I ask if he's been crying? Cyborg wondered. Nah, probably not. He wouldn't admit it if he had…plus, that'd just be insensitive…

There was a crunching sound as Robin bit into his bacon. Somehow, that seemed to relive the silent tension that had gripped at their throats for the past minute. Cyborg breathed out a sigh without realizing it. Robin loosened up, slumping forward once more as he chewed at the bacon on his plate.

"You know what?!" Robin suddenly said, making Cyborg jump.

"What…?" he asked him.

"I'm going on leave."

"Leave?" Cyborg asked. That was not what he'd expected to hear. "But without you, the team will be left with…with only me!"

Robin was already getting out of his seat, the last of his bacon and eggs finished. He pulled off his gloves as he made for the mechanical door, and Cyborg ran ahead to stand in front of him, successfully stopping him. Robin looked at him with annoyance on his face.

"Beast Boy's gonna be back tomorrow, can't you wait until then?" Cyborg asked him.

"No," Robin said definitively. He tried to sidestep Cyborg, but he still barred his way, not letting him leave without this being settled.

"Raven and Starfire won't be back for another three days!" he exclaimed. "Starfire went to Tamaran, which is a long ways away, and she took Raven with her. And with you suddenly deciding to take leave, you'll be leaving the city completely to me!" Cyborg sounded exasperated.

Robin could see why, partly.

When he came to Jump City, he'd planned on purging the city of crime all on his own. A team was not part of the plan. But ever since the five of them had joined together, Robin couldn't imagine it any other way. He'd be lost without them, and he knew it. But this was a trip he had to make. To go back to the one person who he'd hurt most of all.

"Robin, please, just one more day," Cyborg said, leaning in close to him. "One…more…day…"

"I won't be gone long," Robin said, trying to reassure him. He tried to sidestep Cyborg once more, but again Cyborg moved in front of his path. With a sigh and a near grimace, Robin jumped up, putting his hands on Cyborg's shoulders, and flipped over him and out into the hallway.

Cyborg spun around without a moment's hesitation.

"Fine. Fine. Do whatever," he shouted, clearly pissed off. "Can you at least tell me where you plan on going?"

"I'm going where Beast Boy and Starfire went. I'm going to visit family," he replied easily, his voice showing no hint of malice.

"Family?" Cyborg repeated. "You don't mean…?"

"Yeah, I do," Robin replied, turning back to look at his friend. There was sorrow in his eyes, as if he truly regretted leaving Cyborg alone in with the city, even if it was just for one day. Hell, maybe only a few hours. But he still felt bad. "It's time to go see my father."

By which he meant Batman.


	7. Chapter 7

"Master Dick!"

"Hey, Alfred," Dick said, with a small smile and slight wave. "May I come in?" he asked quietly.

Alfred nodded, and stepped aside for him to enter.

Dick looked around the place, noting how nothing had changed. It was just like this when he had first left; everything in its same place, not an inch changed. He would have thought that at least something would have been different. Some small little thing, like maybe a picture had been replaced or a small statue moved.

He had to wonder if his bedroom looked the same. Maybe if this whole encounter went well, he'd be brave enough to look.

Alfred closed the door behind him. Dick then noticed how cold it was inside the manor. He put his hands up to his arms, rubbing himself through the fabric of his hoodie.

"Cold in here," he said.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Most of the time, I don't really notice," Alfred responded. Dick heard the faint clicking of his shoes on the floor as Alfred neared him. "So–-do what do I owe the pleasure, Master Dick?" Alfred asked him.

"I came to see Bruce," Dick said.

"Yes, I thought as much." He paused. Dick waited for him to say more, but it was clear Alfred had finished speaking.

"Where is he?" Dick asked Alfred.

"Still in bed, even at this late hour. Had another rough night, you know." Alfred sighed then, and shook his downcast head. "But you know him, 'creature of the night,' and all that nonsense."

Together, they both walked towards the stairs.

"Shall I go wake him?" Alfred asked Dick as they ascended.

"No. I'll just wait until he wakes up on his own. I want him to be in a good mood."

"You'll be waiting an awful long time then," Alfred said, Dick thought he saw a flicker of a smile pass his face, but it was hard to tell. He hoped that Alfred was joking, but if memory served him correctly, he most likely wasn't. Especially if Bruce had 'a rough night,' as Alfred had put it.

"He take any bad falls?" Dick asked, just as they rounded the corner into the main hallway.

Dick could see the door to Bruce's bedroom. It was slightly ajar, but he still couldn't see in. Complete darkness met his eyes through the crack, which meant that the thick curtains were pulled tight over the windows. His heart started to pound as his nervousness increased. He was so close to him, and yet so far away.

Is he still angry at me? Dick worried.

"Now, now, don't fret, Master Dick," Alfred said, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "That was a long time ago. And, believe it or not, Master Bruce isn't one to hold a grudge."

"I do find that hard to believe," Dick said in a tense voice.

"Yes, so do I sometimes. But when you're risking your life every single night and have nearly died more than a handful of times…well, you start to realize that it's not worth it to stay angry at your loved ones."

Dick thought on Alfred's words as he turned to face Bruce's door.

"It's a lesson you could learn, Master Dick," Alfred told him, just before spinning on his heel and walking away. Dick didn't look after him, but he heard the tapping of his shoes become fainter and fainter until they disappeared all together.

He stayed rooted to the spot, eyes glued on the door, not sure what to do or which way to go. Despite everything he'd been told, Dick just knew that Bruce had to still be mad at him. He could already see his disappointed glare, staring hard at him, digging straight into his soul and ripping it apart. He grimaced as the picture faded from his mind. And even worse were the words, echoing around inside of his skull, reverberating until they hurt: "You disappoint me, Dick."

He put a hand over his eyes, trying to make the memories stop. His fingers rubbed at his eyes, the tips reaching forward to massage his temples.

Few times had he been so stressed before. Any and all times he'd come closer, or even surpassed this level, was when Slade was involved. Slade conquering the city, Slade hurting him and his teammates, Slade plotting to destroy the world.

This must be how Bruce feels about the Joker, Dick thought to himself. Slade as the Joker to his Batman.

Dick couldn't stop himself from thinking onward, comparing himself to Batman in every which way. This was partly the reason why he'd left, he remembered. He was tired of feeling inferior and stressed beyond compare at the very person who was supposed to be protecting him. He was tired of constantly trying to outdo the Dark Knight; tired of his inferiority complex digging down into his heart and taking place there like a dark root.

So if Slade was his Joker, then who was Red X supposed to be?

Certainly not Robin; his time as Robin had long since passed. He was now a thief, and one he'd once called brother.

An idea then popped into Dick's head. He could see it now, as clearly as day.

He walked forward, silent as a mouse, and leaned in to peer past the door blocking his way. He saw Bruce still fast asleep, his head buried in his pillow and all his sheets pulled up around him. Silent as the dead, unmoving and still. Only the rise and fall of his chest let Dick know that he was alive.

He smiled to himself, knowing that he had spared himself one uncomfortable visit.

Turning on his heel, he bolted down the staircase, across the main room, and made for the front doors. Just as he spun the knob and heard the locks click, he heard Alfred approaching behind him. Dick sighed, and waited for him to make some comment about him leaving without having talked to Bruce.

"Leaving so soon, Master Dick?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah, Alfred. Leaving so soon," Dick replied. He waited no longer, but pushed the door open and slipped past the threshold, shutting it behind him. He walked the rest of the way, waiting until he reached more populated roads to hail a cab.

That was how he'd gotten there, after all.

It took nearly forever to finally get one. Dick thought that somewhere near the fifth or sixth try, he finally got one to stop. He opened up the door and slid into the back seat, leaning forward and instructing the driver to South Central Gotham.

"So what's there?" the driver asked, trying to make conversation.

"A friend," he lied.

As the taxi sped onward, he hoped against hope that he wouldn't have to face Bruce. Not yet, not today. Maybe not for a long time. Perhaps another month or two or so and he'd be ready to finally talk to him. There wasn't any rush. Already he was starting to calm down, now that he was away from the manor.

Little did he know that Alfred was already waking up Bruce, telling him he just missed his son.


	8. Chapter 8

Selena lived on the top floor.

Dick debated on whether to take the stairs or the elevator, but he decided on the elevator in the end. He wanted to find out quickly if he was right or not. The walk to her door was even shorter, as he nearly sprinted down the hallway, eager to get some answers. He knocked on the door so hard it sounded like he was about to break it, but he didn’t care. Selena was used to things like that, at least according to Batman.

But it wasn’t Selena who opened the door, it was Jason.

So I was right, Dick thought.

Jason sucked in breath when he saw him standing there. Anger and shock flashed in his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to slam the door in his face…or maybe punch him in the face. But he didn’t. As he stood, staring at Dick, he let his anger meld into something different. Something that made Dick tolerable…

Showing up here in the middle of the goddamn day… What is he thinking? Jason thought as Dick sidestepped him to get into the apartment. Jason slammed the door behind him.

“So what the hell do you want?” Jason asked Dick, cutting straight to the chase.

“What’d’ya think?” Dick spat back at him. “You….you’re… Goddammit–Why are you a thief? Why Jump City? Why aren’t you dead?” The final question rang in the air between them, the words sharp as they left his tongue and cutting straight through Jason’s chest, sliding past his ribs, and embedded themselves like a bullet in his heart.

His words stung more than Jason thought was possible. The fire and spit that he had saved up for this meeting was gone, then, replaced only by a look of forlorn melancholy.

“And…why didn’t you come back?” Dick asked then. His voice was wavering, which meant that he was getting emotional, too. “Why didn’t you come back? Talk to Bruce? Talk to me? All that time I thought you were dead…and you were alive, living life, without…” Dick cut off his words there, for the lump in his throat was too great to talk past.

Jason shook his head angrily. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Bruce.

“I regret not talking to you…” Jason said, turning his head up to meet Dick’s eyes, “but never will I talk to Bruce again!”

“Why?” Dick asked.

“Because, it was clear that he didn’t give a damn about me!”

“That’s not true and you–”

“It is true!” Jason yelled, his voice drowning out any argument Dick was putting up. “Think, Dick! When you and Bruce had that fight, and you left for Jump City, the very next night he had me suit up as Robin and acted as if you hadn’t left at all!” Jason stepped closer to Dick. “And I’ve been gone for how long? A year or so? If he could replace you in a single night, then I’m pretty sure he would’ve found a replacement for me!”

Dick stood dumbstruck in front of him. How could he tell Jason that he was wrong? He didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure if he was right. 

“How many others has he got in Gotham with him, hiding out in that stupid fucking Batcave of his? There’s Barbara, Stephanie…some jackass named Tim. All of them took my place and Bruce doesn’t even give a fuck…” 

Jason turned away from Dick, and went to the nearby kitchen counters, placing his hands on the edges and lowering his head. Dick stood there in the center of the room, still and silent, just watching him. By the bob of his head, and his irregular breathing, Dick could tell that he was crying.

Or came close to crying. He knew Jason.

Thought he did, anyway. Somethings didn’t change, and Jason had changed so much since he last saw him. From a thief trying to survive on the streets of Gotham city to a fully-fledged Robin taking out the bad guys, and then back to a thief.

Only this time it wasn’t for survival. He wasn’t stealing tires and wallets in hopes for his next meal. So what was it?

“Jason…” Dick slowly approached him, his steps as cautious as a human approaching a wounded predator. “Jason, why Red X? Why a thief?”

Jason heaved a heavy sigh and then turned back around to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, but they were completely dry. Still too damn proud to show his tears, Dick thought to himself.

“Because, Dick, I–” He snapped his mouth shut. The fire and rage came back into his eyes. Why should I tell you? he thought of hissing at him. But it was too predictable. And beating around that damned bush didn’t suit him; never did and never will.

“I felt close to you,” he admitted at last.

Dick was taken aback. Jason felt close to him? After Jason had cursed him out, and refused to talk to him, and then stormed out on him; after Jason had been viciously killed and blamed his death on the family he thought he’d had; after Dick had made it his priority to hunt him down and imprison him, and had put high up on his list of least favorite people in the world…

After all of that, and Jason still felt close to him?

Dick was at a loss for words. Jason took advantage of that. His face recomposed itself, so that it looked like he’d never experienced any emotion at all. Only a small little smirk that he wore so often. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he joked.

Dick stuttered as he tried to respond to that.

“Okay,” Dick said, when his tongue had been untied. “Okay, so Red X…I can kinda see now…”

Liar, Jason thought.

“But, why a thief?” Dick finished asking.

“Long story short: Selena is a thief, and she was the only one I could go to after I came back to Gotham. The only one who’d take me in, on one condition: I assist her with her work.”

The final piece of the puzzle clicked in Dick’s head. So that was why he took to stealing gems and diamonds and jewelry…why he’d taken to stealing machinery and priceless state of the art tech…why he'd hit Wayne Enterprises so often...

Assisting Selena with her work, so that he’d have a place to live. Looks like he was back to the small kid on the streets again, snatching purses for a bed to sleep in.

So, now that I know the story, now should I arrest him? Dick wondered to himself. 

Probably not; he was dressed in civilian clothes, without his mask, in a city that no longer recognized him. What gave him the authority? Besides, did he really want to do that right now? Right when everything was finally coming together, the thread pulling the seams tight, and the gaps were slowly bridged?

No.

“The flash drive?” Dick asked, fishing it out of his pocket and holding it up to the light.

Jason shrugged. “What about it?” he asked carelessly. Before Dick could respond, he snapped at him; “You’re a smart boy, figure it out on your own.”

He shrugged away from the kitchen counter, and quickly made his way across the room and into the hallway. Dick followed close behind him, talking all the while.

“Well, let’s see. You have a discarded flash drive, most likely stolen–”

“Had,” Jason snapped back.

“Had,” Dick corrected, obviously terse. “You had a most likely stolen flash drive with definitely stolen information on it. All about the Joker. With Ra’s Al Ghul, and Two Face!”

“To be honest, Two Face was a mistake. He wasn’t supposed to be on there.”

“Fine, whatever,” Dick said. Jason had stepped into a bedroom, most likely his. Thought it didn’t exactly say ‘17-year-old teenage boy’ to Dick. He looked around the room, his detective eyes searching for clues of anything. All he could deduce was that Jason really liked color red. “But still, a flash drive full of Joker?”

“That sounds like a horror movie title,” Jason mumbled to himself, and gave a small chuckle.

He pulled open the closet doors. That looked like it belonged to him, at least. He rummaged for his duffel bag, old and black with broken zippers. And completely stuffed full. Jason took it and set it down next to his bare feet. He leaned up against the wall, and waited for Dick to continue figuring out this little mystery of his.

Dick was lost in his thoughts, pondering over what it all meant.

“Come on, Dick, you can do it,” Jason mocked him. 

Dick looked up at him, his eyes sharp as blades. “Don’t. Mock. Me.” He forced the words through clenched teeth. Looking up at Jason’s smug, indifferent face didn’t help him to think, so he dropped his eyes back down again. He saw Jason reach down for his duffel bag again, shrugging it onto his shoulder.

Looking from the duffel bag to him, Dick said, “You’re going after him.”

“Took you long enough,” Jason huffed out. He unzipped the top of the bag.

“And just what do you plan on doing to him?!” Dick nearly screamed at him, lunging forward and glaring at him, only an inch from his face.

“I’m going to return the favor,” Jason replied, his voice cold. Reaching into the duffel bag, he gripped the silver Red X belt in his hand, and pressed down on the teleportation button. With a bright flash, he was gone from sight, leaving Dick standing alone in his room.

“He’s going to kill him,” Dick muttered to himself.

He put his hands to his head, trying to ward off his incoming thoughts. He was against killing, something that had been instilled within him at a young age and then was driven home even further by Batman. But Jason…

I can’t stop him, Dick thought then. I can’t stop him. I shouldn’t stop him.

“I don’t allow shoes on in the house,” said a familiar voice behind him. There stood Selena, Isis asleep in her arms. She looked at him with something like pity in her eyes, but Selena didn’t pity him. She’d heard the conversation, though.

“I was just leaving,” Dick replied, and left the apartment in a hurry.


	9. Chapter 9

Dick pulled his hood up over his head as he walked out of the apartment building. His mind was in turmoil, thinking of what Jason meant to do to the Joker. But even worse, that he was willing to excuse it. That he was willing to look the other way while Jason returned the favor of killing him.

That was probably the worst of it all. 

His hands were shaking, but not from the chill of the wind. From the chill in his blood instead; what was he becoming? Dick didn’t know, and he was afraid to question it, because he might just get his answer.

Murder was something he didn’t do. Something he didn’t condone. Something he always, always, always tried to stop. And now…

Here he was, walking down Gotham’s streets, thinking of letting Jason do whatever he wanted to do to get his revenge. Thinking of Jason’s plan as excusable, if not deserved.

Yeah, he didn’t know what he was thinking. Or was he thinking at all? No, Dick concluded. He had to be thinking, for otherwise this wouldn’t disturb him as much as it did. 

Now he knew he couldn’t face Bruce. There was no way that he could look into his eyes, knowing what he did, thinking what he thought, and be able to hold his gaze. He’d shy away, crumple to the ground completely ashamed. And the disappointment…

If he’d thought he’d seen Batman furious at him before, he’d seen nothing yet. The searing, breaking gaze he’d give him; one that would make him want to run until he reached the ends of the earth, and once there, just lay down and let the ground swallow him up and relieve him of the burden of his life.

Dick was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the luxury car pull up to the curb, driving slow enough to make pace with his uneven strides. The window of the car rolled down, and Alfred called out to him.

“Master Dick!” he called, and Dick nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Al–what?” he asked angrily.

He didn’t have anonymity anymore, now that Alfred had called out his name, so he decided, hell with it. He strode up to the side of the car, just as it stopped and parked on the street curb.

Placing his hands on the ledge of the window, he peered in at the old butler, completely composed in his seat. It only made Dick angrier, to see him so composed while his own mind was seconds away from chaos as it sought to find the truth. But still, he let his face remain blank…or as blank as it could. He wouldn’t show distress; it was something he’d been taught not to do, long before Batman was even in the picture. 

Training for the circus, day in and day out, since he could walk on his own. His parents had taught him, even if your arms are tired and your legs are sore and your entire body is just screaming for a break, smile. Smile because the audience doesn’t want to see you in pain. They don’t want to see acrobats who hated what they did.

So he concealed it.

“I told Master Bruce that you were at the Manor, and that you wanted to see him as soon as possible.”

“Oh, Alfred,” Dick groaned. “How could you do that to me?” he asked him.

Alfred only shook his head, not giving into Dick’s negativity. “He wishes to see you shortly,” Alfred continued on. “I’ve been sent out to collect you and bring you back to the Manor, so that you and Master Bruce may talk.”

Dick groaned again.

He was not ready to see Bruce. Not now…probably not ever.

“Please, Master Dick,” Alfred said to him, after Dick stood in front of the car for a full minute without making any move to enter the car. “He wishes to see you, quite dearly,” Alfred repeated, hoping that it would get Dick into the car at least.

Dick huffed out another agitated sigh and finally consented. “Fine,” he snapped, leaning up from his perch on the side of the door and making for the back doors of the car.

Fine, Dick thought. I’ll go see him. 

He pulled open the door and slid into the back seat, only to be met with Bruce sitting exactly next to him. Dick’s eyes widened in horror, shock, and disbelief. How could Alfred to this to me? was the first thought that ran through his mind. Then, How could Bruce do this to me?

Bruce gave him a small smile, but Dick could tell that it was forced.

“Been a long time, Dick.” 

Oh no, he thought. He’s using his Batman voice.

Dick didn’t respond to his words. Bruce directed Alfred to drive back to the Manor, and the motor purred to life as they sped towards their destination. Both Dick and Bruce were silent for a long time, neither of them knowing how to break the ice and finally start talking to each other.

Bruce knew that he had to make the first move.

“Alfred told me you wanted to talk about something,” he said to Dick. 

He peered at him from the corners of his eyes, but all he saw was Dick staring forward, unblinking, his body tense and his jaw set. Not a good sign, Bruce knew.

“What do you want to talk about?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing,” Dick lied. His voice sounded faraway.

“If you’re going to lie to the world’s greatest detective, you’d best put some effort into it,” Bruce said to him. Still, Dick’s demeanor didn’t change in the least. Definitely a bad sign, Bruce thought.

Even if they had last seen each other on bad terms, he knew that Dick shouldn’t be acting like this. This was different from how he would act, how anyone would act. Bruce concluded that the best way to patch this up would be the non-aggressive approach. He was glad for that, because it was a tactic he rarely got to use in his life.

“Dick,” he said again, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

He didn’t; only remained silent, staring ahead at the back of the seat, never making eye contact. Bruce sighed, and rubbed his temples. This was going to be difficult, he knew. He'd expected as much when Alfred had first woken him up and told him that Dick had been there in the Manor. But now, he anticipated something even more difficult than he'd originally thought.

“Is Jump City good?” Bruce asked. He still used his Batman voice. Dick turned his head then, away from Bruce and out towards the window, watching the scenery fly by them.

“I’ve heard it’s quite nice in the winter.”

Still nothing.

Time to strike a little deeper. “Looks like leaving was good for you,” he said. That did make Dick turn around to look at him. His eyes were wide, and he pulled his hoodie farther down on his head, trying to shield himself.

“Do you think it was a good choice?” Bruce asked him. 

That damn Batman voice, Dick thought, grimacing at his words.

“Yes.” He forced the word from his throat. 

“Good to know,” Bruce replied. “Was that what you wanted to talk to me about? Or was it something else?” Bruce waited for his response. But he knew that it would come too late. So he judged his body language instead. The uncomfortable shift in his weight spoke wonders.

“No,” Dick said at least.

No what? Bruce thought.

“Then what?” he asked instead. “What’s made you leave Jump City when you’re friends are out of town, come all the way down here, and try to talk to me?”

No response.

“This has to be serious. Something you need to say,” Bruce continued on. “You can tell me. I don’t hold a grudge.” Pause. “I don’t blame you.” His voice softened as he said the words. “I don’t blame you at all. You needed your space; you needed to forge your own path. I understand that. Besides, you’ve done good in Jump City.”

A curt “thanks” was all he got in return.

Another taut silence stretched between them. 

Alfred was just starting to pull up the Wayne Manor when Dick finally thought that he would break. He just couldn’t take it anymore. The close proximity, the uncomfortable conversation (if it could be called a conversation), the thoughts that were roaming around in his mind...

“Bruce,” Dick said at last. “I just want to go back to Jump City.”

He turned his head before Bruce could look at him. 

“Already?” Bruce asked him, just as his door popped open and Alfred held it open for him, waiting for the two of them to slide out of the car. Bruce slid free from the car, and Dick after him.

“Yeah. I really need to go back. My friends are waiting for me,” Dick said. Honesty. That’s nice, Dick thought to himself.

“Wouldn’t you at least like to come inside for a little while?” Bruce asked him. Even in the bright sunlight of noon, in a light-colored and crisp suit, Dick could only see an unmasked Batman staring at him.

Dick wanted so badly to say no. “Okay,” he grunted, and followed Alfred and Bruce into the Manor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, his mind screeched, over and over. Get me out of here. Get me the fuck out of here. I was just about to excuse murder and now I’m going to sit down with Batman?

An hour passed, and then two…

Finally, Dick was released, and he was heading back to Jump City in a second’s time. He’d told him nothing, and he didn’t know if that was good or bad. All he knew was that when he returned, he was telling his friends immediately. And then, he’d go after Jason.

Another time, Bruce, Dick thought. He hoped it wasn’t a lie.


	10. Chapter 10

"Duuuuuudddddeeeeee!"

Robin knew that Beast Boy was home then. With a pained sigh, he pressed open the doors to the main room, where he saw all four of his teammates sitting at the table. Starfire and Beast Boy and Cyborg all engaged in a highly energetic conversation, and Raven watching them all over the covers of her book.

"Duuuuddddeeee!" Beast Boy repeated, turning then to look at Robin who had just walked in.

"Hey, BB, I was just–"

He couldn't finish his sentence, for just then Beast Boy had flung himself around Robin, arms squeezing around him and a whole bunch of words being babbled out. When Beast Boy finally did release him, it was Starfire's turn then. With just as much gusto, she flung arms around him, and when she hugged him, Robin was almost certain that his ribs were about to break.

"Oh, Robin, how I delight in seeing you again! Tamaran was wonderful, but nothing can compare to this feeling of being home with friends!" She was positively beaming.

Raven and Cyborg watched calmly from behind all of the action.

Robin made eye contact with them both, and their gazes held for a long time. The all seemed to be silently judging one another, as if they could communicate through nothing more than mere looks. Finally, Robin turned his attention away. Spinning away from all of his friends, he went into the kitchen, opening the fridge to search for something to eat.

"I'm...glad to see you too..." Robin struggled to say. "But I thought you and Raven weren't coming home for another few days."

"Cyborg said that he wished us to be home sooner than that," Starfire replied.

"Oh?" Robin arched and eyebrow at him.

"So how was your trip?" Cyborg asked Robin.

"It was fine," Robin said in a terse voice.

"Trip?" Beast Boy shouted behind them both. "Dude! You went on a trip and left Cyborg here all alone. That's not good!" Beast Boy turned to Cyborg. "Not that I'm saying you couldn't handle it, cause you so totally could, but still…"

"Where did you go?" Starfire asked him.

"Just…out…" Robin stuttered. They all seemed to know that he was lying, and he couldn't meet their gaze. He went into the kitchen reached in the fridge for a stick of string cheese, quickly unwrapping it and bringing it up to his lips.

At least now he had an excuse not to talk.

"But where exactly did you venture out to?" Starfire pressed.

Robin tried waving her off. "Nowhere, just someplace that I used to visit a lot. Y'know, old places from long ago. Those types of things." He knew he was talking in circles, avoiding the question as best as he could, and he hoped that his teammates would notice and back off.

But no such luck.

"Like, the circus or something?" Beast Boy asked.

That hit a nerve.

"Just out okay?!" Robin yelled at him.

Beast Boy shrank back away from him, eyes wide and his body instinctively becoming defensive. He backed up to Starfire, who was also wide-eyed with disbelief, and maybe something akin to fear. Worry? He didn't know. Didn't care. That nerve that Beast Boy had hit…

He left, punching open the sliding doors and storming out of the room.

Once he was sure he was alone, he leaned back up against the wall and sighed, dragging his hand over his face. He felt an entire riot of emotions, and he didn't know how to process any of them. This was uncharted territory for him; he was finally beginning to see the gray in between the black and white.

The only thing he was certain of was that he didn't like this.

Why did Red X have to be Jason? Of all people in the world, why him?

"Brother," Dick remembered once calling him.

"We're not brothers," Jason had always said back. No matter what the time, no matter where the place, he'd always replied that way.

Guess he always saw us as a fake family, Dick thought to himself.

Heavy footsteps pounded along the hallway near him. Can we not? Robin thought, as the footsteps neared closer and closer. He groaned and sighed and pushed his glove hand against his face again. He knew who was coming for him.

Cyborg.

Who else had footsteps like that? No one on the current team. And he was the one who'd been with Robin all through this entire thing; of course he would come after him. He was the one who was closest to grasping this situation.

Robin stood up just as Cyborg came into sight.

"Hey, man," Cyborg said, testing his words gently. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Robin automatically responded. "Just need some time alone." He paused. "Surely you can understand?" His voice came out tenser than he meant it to.

"Look, Robin," Cyborg said, taking a few more steps towards him. "I know that BB was outta line with that circus comment, but I can't help but think there's more to this than you're letting on. Come on, man, let me in. I can help you. Tell me something…"

Robin didn't know what came over him, but he did think of something just then. He shot it down almost immediately, but it kept resurfacing in the thoughts of his mind. It demanded his attention, wouldn't go away. So Robin played with the idea, turning it every which was as he thought of some alternative.

A million other things could have been done. A million and more. But this was the one he was dead set on, for some stupid reason. He decided to go with it.

"I could use some help with something," Robin slowly said.

"Name it!" Cyborg replied.

"Well…" His throat tightened. "I need your help tracking a certain substance."

If Cyborg was suspicious then, he didn't notice it. Of course, he was still staring at the ground, focusing on the tips of his shoes against the metal of the floor. When he looked up at Cyborg, he didn't detect any hint of suspicion or even reluctance.

"Yeah, I can totally do that!" Cyborg exclaimed. "Come on, we can go to my lab. The one in my bedroom. That system can track anything!" His smile was bright and genuine, and Robin couldn't help but to return it.

Maybe it was just Cyborg's enthusiasm, but for some reason, Robin felt that maybe this would turn out well. Not in any scenario he pictured would this turn out well, but still there was that glimmer of hope in his brain that told him otherwise.

He decided to go with it.

Cyborg's door slid open, revealing the half-bedroom-half-laboratory that Cyborg called his. Robin let his eyes wander around the place as Cyborg went to one of his computer systems, pulled out the chair and sat down in it with a loud creak.

"So, whatcha need to track?" Cyborg asked Robin.

"Xenothium," Robin stated.

Cyborg's fingers stilled over the keys, and his organic eye got wide. He whipped his chair around, turning to face Robin. He knew by the look behind the mask alone that he was serious.

"Xenothium?" Cyborg shouted incredulously. "Xenothium? Haven't you learned your lesson from last time? That stuff is seriously unstable. Even tracking it can pose a risk!" Cyborg shook his head and closed his eyes before turning back to the computer screen. He'd do it. But still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Cyborg, look," Robin said, placing a hand on his mechanical shoulder. "I need you to do this for me. All these systems are complex; I might mess something up, and I need this to be flawless."

"I know you're going after Red X," Cyborg said.

Robin blanched. "How–?"

"I'm not stupid!" Cyborg told him. "But what I can't figure out is, Why? Why are you going through all this trouble for him? I know he's pretty much at the top of your Shit List, and that he's been active lately, but you're willing to do a sensor track on xenothium because of him? There's something more to this than meets the eye, and I wanna know what it is."

Robin groaned, and went over to sit on the edge of Cyborg's bed. Leaning forward, he placed his head in his hands and repeated the same brooding actions he'd done in the hallway. Cyborg watched him, only waiting. Robin could brood all he wanted, it wouldn't change his mind. He wanted to know. Needed, more like it.

"If you want me to run this scanner, Robin," Cyborg said, "then you need to tell me what's up."

The final nail in the coffin. He watched as Robin admitted his defeat, watched as he realized that there was no way to back out of this or to talk his way through it. Robin peeled of his black and white mask, but still his face remained buried in his hands.

Cyborg waited still.

"Okay, look," Robin said, looking up at Cyborg finally. A pair of steely blue eyes met his, and Cyborg was once again struck by how different he looked without the mask. Sure, he'd seen his face before, but so rarely. Cyborg was speechless for a second, his ears deaf to the world around him, before he registered that Robin was talking.

"Okay, look, Red X ambushed me one night. We got into this big fight, and I ended up pulling his mask off. Long story short, Red X is someone I know, and someone I care about. I need to go after him before he makes a big, big mistake!"

And before our father finds out, he added silently.

Cyborg nodded slowly, as he put the puzzle together piece by piece. Robin wondered if Cyborg knew exactly who this person he cared so much about really was, but Robin thought that Cyborg couldn't know him that well. Surely, the fact that it was Jason–his long lost brother–wouldn't even be something in his mind.

He'd never told anyone about Jason, just the same as he had never told any of them about Bruce Wayne, or Barbara, or Cassandra, or Stephanie. Or anyone outside of them. The only reason that his teammates knew about his parents and his tragic circus past…

Well, Raven had gone into his mind and discovered that, but she was expert at keeping secrets. Even better than Batman himself at that. No, it had been Wally, the over-talkative Kid Flash, to spill those secrets to his teammates one night. After a few long hours and a vow to never let him into the Tower and be alone with his friends again, they all knew that much truth about him. He remembered that Raven was very quiet through the entire story.

"Okay, dude," Cyborg said, putting a hand on Robin's knee. Robin looked up to see him smiling, and a sympathetic look in his eyes. "I'll help you out." He straightened and went back to his computers.

"Do you have a sample of the stuff?" Cyborg asked him.

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin replied, and took a small bit of torn fabric out of his pocket. Cyborg eyed over the fabric before placing it under the scanners, and letting all of his high-tech equipment pick up the chemical compound that laced the shredded piece of cloth.

When the chemical mixture was secured in the system, the tracking process began.

Robin and Cyborg were both silent as the computers searched all over Jump City for traces of the xenothium. There were many positive results, all over the city where a tiny trace amount of the stuff was located, but Robin knew that that was just from previous battles with Red X. He was long gone from there by now.

The computers worked on and on, and they could only sit as still as statues as they waited. Once the entire scan of Jump City was complete, they found no trace of Red X anywhere.

"Can you search Gotham?" Robin asked Cyborg.

He cringed when he saw Cyborg shoot him a look, and he could almost hear the wheels in his head turning as he slowly started to deduce just what was going on. But still, he replied, "Sure, man," and did the scan anyway.

Robin sat in silence, and waited.

It wasn't long before there was a positive match on the screen. High, concentrated amounts all over Gotham, from Red X's more recent hits, no doubt. All over what Robin knew was the area around Selina's apartment, and oddly enough, a lot of trace amounts near the Batcave.

Apparently he'd been checking in on Bruce every once in a while.

But the highest trace amounts were from an alleyway down in costal Gotham. It wasn't near Crime Alley, at least. Robin was thankful for that much. But still, something about the location reeked of familiarity. There was a connection there that he just wasn't getting, a certain significance that he just couldn't pick up on.

By the way the map showed how thick the concentration was, Robin knew that that was where Jason was. And that he'd been staying there for days at a time. He was planning something…

No shit, Robin thought, chiding himself. He knew that Jason was planning on going after the Joker, and that he was most likely planning on killing him while he was at it, but to locate it to that specific place…

Something was going on and he didn't like it.

"Thanks for the help, Cyborg," Robin said in the cheeriest, most carefree voice that he could muster. He put a gloved hand on his friend's shoulder. "It really meant a lot to me. And you've helped a whole bunch. Thanks again." He smiled even wider, and then went for the door.

"Hey Robin," Cyborg shouted after him.

Robin paused at the open threshold, and looked back at Cyborg sitting in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Yes?"

"Don't do anything stupid," Cyborg told him.

"Alright." And then he was gone.

After he'd left, Cyborg looked back at the computer scanners one more time. He didn't know as much about Robin as he ought to know. He realized that a long time ago, back when Wally started spilling secrets. He'd realized there was so much about all of his teammates that he just didn't know.

Secrets were one thing, but a complete blank when it came to their life history and meaningful relationships outside of the Titans? That was something else entirely.

Cyborg stretched what muscles he had in his body, and left his room. He was going back to the main room, where he knew everyone else would be. Including Robin, since that was where he normally went. Not his bedroom or some detective work room, but the main room.

He craved the presence of his friends.

Cyborg had that same crave, but it kept nagging at the back of his skull. So he turned his feet, walking himself away from the main room and down towards rarely used hallways.

Down a couple of floors he went, turned another corner and another, before he arrived at the room he had wanted. The door noisily opened, the metal cringing shrieking up against each other due to lack of use. Cyborg didn't even blink.

He walked into the almost-forgotten computer room.

The old alien systems gleamed back at him.

It was the place where they had stored some of their most private files, details about their life that they needed to have on record but still were too important to have them be common information. It would take a lot of work to hack into them, but Cyborg knew that he could do it. He knelt down in front of a tower of monitor equipment, and opened up some of his systems.

"Sorry about this, Dick," Cyborg whispered, and hacked himself into the system.

Hours later, he had all the information that he wanted. And then some. Some that he didn't even need to know, and some that he didn't want to know. But everything important was fresh in his brain, and he knew then just what was happening between Robin and Red X. What was so important to him.

Should I be worried? Cyborg kept wondering.

Should I be worried? Should I not be? I should be worried, shouldn't I? I should be worried.

Cyborg decided it was time to take action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, next chapter to come soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Robin pulled his cloak over around his shoulders, trying his best to blend into the shadows of the night. He sunk lower on the roof, hoping for the concrete ledge to hide his face. Behind the mask, his worried eyes strained to see anything that might have been happening in the apartment.

The window was broken, with shards strewn all over the shoddy, beaten-up floor. It looked like a fire had once been there, with the darkened soot around the bricks of the window and the slightly charred walls. Some of the walls were actually broken off, peeling away and leaving the old studs and beams exposed.

Everything about it reeked with misuse and disdain. Neglect and crime.

Why Jason decided to come here in his spare time was beyond him. Even with the knowledge that there was something key about the place, it just floored him why anyone would want to go near a building like that.

Rundown would have been a freaking compliment.

As the minutes ticked by, and the time rolled on towards and then past an hour, Robin was forced to conclude that no one was in the apartment. He'd pulled out binoculars with night vision, heat sensors, motion detectors even, and he hadn't seen anything inside. He sighed in defeat, and leaned back on his heels.

It had been a long night.

Thoughts of a cushiony chair and warmer air filled his mind, but he pushed them away. He couldn't let himself daydream, no matter what the circumstances. Couldn't let himself be distracted from his current stakeout. He waited for another thirty minutes, and then backed away and stood up.

He rolled his neck, stretched his arms with a soft groan, curved and un-curved his spine until he felt limber again. Sitting still for such a long time had made his bones ache.

Walking to the opposite edge of the building, he pulled out his Titans communicator, and flipped the screen to a sensor section. The trace amounts of xenothium lit up the screen, in a colorful display of yellow and red and purple around the spot he'd just left. There was nothing more than a faded green where Robin currently stood.

With a few clicks, he zoomed away and took in the full map. A good portion of Eastern Gotham showed up on the screen, with a map of color spread out at various locations all around the grid.

Robin tried to deduce where Jason might have been at that point in time. What he was doing. Robbing a bank? A jewelry store? Kicking back with Selena after a hard night of theft and spying? Or was he somewhere else, getting drunk at a bar or loitering in an alleyway? Something that didn't require the Red X suit to be activated?

He shook his head, thinking of his brother doing just that, and pulled the grappling hook from his belt. He shot it out towards the next building, and expertly swung across the open alleyway beneath him. He landed softly, silently, as if he were the night itself. A small smirk came to his mouth as he thought about that.

"Though I might see you tonight," said a voice beside him.

Robin automatically held the grappling hook at the ready, knowing how to wound someone with it if he needed to. And he was almost certain that he needed to; this was one of the seedier parts of Gotham, after all. Still, he made no move to shook the hooks at the speaker.

The voice chuckled a little, and out of the shadows stepped Jason.

He wasn't wearing the Red X suit, but he was dressed far from casually. Robin noted, with a hint of horror, that he had a gun strapped to his hip, underneath the leather jacket that he wore. He forced his horror not to show on his face. Even behind the mask, it would have been obvious for Jason to spot.

"Jason," Robin said. His hand twitched as he longed to remove his mask, and become Dick once again. His brother. But he couldn't because he was in uniform, and his identity was something he wasn't about to let go of.

"Dick," Jason replied. He didn't really care, it seemed.

A long moment of silence passed between them, as both of them tried to find something to say. Jason was the first to break the silence, if only because he couldn't stand the way Dick was looking at him right then.

"I must admit, I'm impressed. Two hours of doing nothing but waiting to see if I'd turn up. I never had that kind of patience." There was a bitterness in his voice, and Jason thought back to when he and Batman were breaking apart a drug deal. He'd been reckless and impatient then, too.

"Well, if you watched me wait for two hours…" Dick replied.

"I was playing a game on my cell phone," Jason said with a small chuckle. Dick thought that it was a lie. Even when Jason had been happier, he didn't do such things. Still, Dick said nothing about it.

Groaning, Dick said, "Come off it, Jason. What do you want? What are you doing here?"

"You're a detective…" Jason started to say.

"…Yeah, yeah, 'figure it out on your own.' I got that much. But what I can't understand is why here? Of all places, what's so special about this place?" Dick made vague gestures around them.

Jason groaned and shook his head. "Some detective," he spat.

"Just tell me."

"Guess," Jason told him then. Dick's teeth clenched, and his hands balled into fists.

He didn't know what game Jason was playing, but he did know that he didn't like it. If this was the same Jason he'd known before his death, it was hard to act the same around him.

"You were born here?" Dick said, taking a stab in the dark.

"Nope," Jason said, all too casually.

"You…used to live here?" Dick asked, taking yet another stab.

"Nope."

This is getting me nowhere, Dick thought to himself.

He stormed up to Jason, and luckily Jason didn't back down. He just stood there, as Dick marched up to his face. Jason gambled his luck, and reached up and ripped the mask free from Dick's eyes. The same steely blue that he'd known so well, long once before, met his green ones. The familiarness hit him, and hit him hard, and he had to look away from him.

"Come on, Jason, just tell me!"

"Well, y'know, there's a lot of history in this place…" Jason started to say.

Dick just rolled his eyes.

"I lived in this neighborhood, once, before my stepmom realized she couldn't pay for some…anyway, this area right here…" He paused for effect, and looked Dick up and down, to see if he was getting it. "This was one of the Joker's old hideouts."

"I don't remember reading about that in the Joker's files," Dick replied.

"I didn't expect you too. I doubt Bats even knows that this was one of his. But it is, trust me. I ran into him once as a kid, long long ago, and damn, that fucked me up…" Jason scoffed and shook his head again.

Dick arched an eyebrow at him.

Still, he took in all that he said, evaluated it, and then committed it to memory.

"So why're you telling me all this?" Dick asked him. "You're planning on killing him, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jason replied with a carefree shrug. "So what? He deserves it."

No disagreement there, Dick thought. But still he said, "You know I'm obliged to stop you, right?"

"Uh huh," Jason replied.

"So, I ask yet again, why are you telling me all this?" Dick leaned in closer to him, trying to appear threatening and yet failing miserably. This was Jason. He knew him far too well to feel threatened. He only chuckled.

But then Jason's chuckles ended, and his face fell. He looked miserable then, and that was the most open and honest expression Dick had ever seen him have in forever. He leaned back away from him, giving him some space. It gave him a better look of the sudden melancholy that had struck Jason hard.

"I…I guess I just wanted to see what you'd do," Jason breathed.

"Seems like a foolish plan," Dick said, making sure to keep his voice soft.

"Nah, not really. Even if you did find out–which you did–I know you wouldn't be able to stop me anyway."

Dick didn't ask him what he meant, though he wanted to.

"The Joker was pretty much dead the second I came back to life. All that needs to be done is for me to pull the trigger, and this world will be rid of him forever." He turned to glare at his brother. "Something no one else has ever had the guts to do. So I'll have to do it!"

"Jason…"

"He took away my life, Dick! And more than that! My life may have been restored, but it's a living hell. I wasn't even allowed to have solace in death, and now I'm here, forced to walk the same Earth as him!" Jason spat the word out. "I won't stand for it. I need him gone, Dick. The whole world needs him gone."

Dick couldn't say anything for the longest time.

Then, "I won't stop you, Jason." It wasn't even loud enough to be a whisper. Jason had heard it, though.

"What, no long speech about morality and humanity and all that shit?" Jason asked him. Dick only looked down at his shoes while Jason glared at him, challenging him to rise against him.

Secretly, he had to admit that it was fun to fight his brother. It reminded him of the time before his death, when he was actually happy.

"No," Dick mouthed.

Jason went over to sit on the ledge of the building, looking down at the old apartment that the Joker had once called his lair. He heard the rustle of the wind and the smell of spilled gasoline and cigarette smoke thick in the air. He hated it.

"But Jason," Dick said then, making him turn back around. "I can offer you this. If you don't kill the Joker, I'll pardon every single crime you've committed in Jump City and Gotham."

"Not buying it," Jason sneered and spun back around.

"And something else," Dick continued.

Jason turned his head back around, a scowl on his face. What could Dick possibly say to change his mind? He was going to kill the Joker. That was that. "What?" Jason demanded.

"If you swear to let the Joker live, and give up your life of crime completely, and live by the morals you once had…"

Jason rolled his eyes.

"…then you can have a place on the team."


	12. Chapter 12

Jason put his gun back into his pocket, pulling his jacket over the protruding handle. Robin's eyes kept flicking back from the now-hidden gun and Jason's face. He looked, for a split second, like he would take the offer. Like it had been what he had wanted his whole life, and he would accept with a giddy smile.

But then the scowl went back onto his face.

Jason dropped his eyes down to the concrete of the roof they stood on, shuffling his shoes before he finally answered.

"That's rich," he mocked. "Join your team? Why? Just so that you can keep an eye on me?" His scowl deepened as his thought rolled around in his head. "Have a criminal on the Titans. Yeah, sure, you'd do that alright," he muttered to himself.

"I won't have a criminal on the team," Robin said back to him. "If you change your ways–"

"Then you'll have a former criminal on the team," Jason finished for him. He spun around to face Dick, stepping up to him angrily. Dick wondered when Jason had gotten so tall. Last time he'd seen him, they…

Oh, it doesn't matter! Robin's brain screamed.

"Just fucking say it! You want to keep an eye on me, and this was just a lame-ass excuse for you to do so!"

Robin wanted to scream back into his face that Jason was wrong, on so many accounts, but he'd rather not draw attention to them. Besides, he wasn't in the mood to get in a pissing contest with his (albeit adoptive) brother. He shook his head, not wanting to believe Jason was being so stubborn and pig-headed.

But then again this was Jason.

"Why don't you admit that you want to be on the Team?!" Robin shot back at him, after a moment had passed.

Jason's eyes widened. "Want to be on the team? Want to? I don't know what the fuck is going on in your mind–"

Robin cut him off before he could go any farther. "You broke into the Tower and stole a suit that was once mine, you decided to hit up Jump City instead of Gotham, you constantly drop by to mock me and irritate me… Face it, Jason. I know that you want to be on the Team…"

He paused for a moment.

"Or at the very least, around me."

Jason pursed his lips together, and narrowed his eyes. Robin could see the tension in his jaw, could almost hear the grind of his teeth. Seconds ticked by where Jason said nothing. Robin knew he'd caught him and exposed his reasons.

"Don't flatter yourself," Jason said at last. His voice was filled with hatred, or at least it sounded that way. As Jason turned away to face the darkened horizon, Robin noted the slight quiver in his lip.

"Do you really want to kill the Joker?" Robin asked him.

"I don't know…"

His voice sounded softer this time. Robin detected no malice in it. He stepped forward, closer towards him, and Jason didn't move. Didn't flinch. Only stood there. The gun in his pocket flashed in Robin's mind.

Jason wouldn't hurt me, Robin thought to himself. He repeated it, wanting to believe it. He honestly didn't know anymore.

Jason had always been…Jason. Getting into fights was his specialty back when they both lived in Gotham.Robin still remembered the time a criminal to the hospital. He'd witnessed it himself. And according to Bruce, he'd done it a couple more times.

"Yes."

Jason's voice broke Robin out of his thoughts.

"What?" Robin asked.

"Yes. Yes, I want to kill the Joker. Not only just for me, but for all his victims, and all the victims that will come after. Think of it. I mean, Batman won't do it because of his damned moral code and all that bullshit, but I know that he thinks about it. Every day. Every night."

Robin wanted to shrink away from him.

"Remember what he did to Barb?" Jason asked him.

Robin took a deep breath, and said, "I'll never forget."

Why'd he have to bring that up?! his mind screamed.

Then his mind made a connection that he never wanted to see, and then only wanted to forget. The thoughts of Joker with Barbara started flashing to Slade and Raven. The similarities were so striking. Hunting them down, stripping them of their clothes, humiliating them, giving them nightmares, and finally breaking them down into nothing. How long it had taken for them both to regain a sense of confidence and safety…

"You're awfully quiet," Jason remarked.

How long had be been standing there silent? Robin didn't know. Whenever his mind went to dark places, it seemed like forever only took a couple of seconds.

"You're starting to see things my way, aren't you?" Jason asked.

"Sort of," Robin admitted, his voice only a whisper. He shook his head yet again. "I just…can't picture you as a murderer."

Anger flared in Jason's eyes, but then quickly died away. "But you can picture me as a teammate?" he spat.

"We once were."

Robin stood straighter, trying to match his brother's height. His eyes narrowed behind the mask. He'd yet to master the Bat Glare, but he thought it'd at least have some effect on him.

It didn't.

"So?" Jason asked. "That was the past. Y'know, before I got killed, woke up in my coffin, dunked in Ra's Al Ghul's stupid pit, screamed my way back to Gotham, and started having panic attacks!"

Robin didn't know how to respond to that, so he danced around the question. Hell, he just avoided it entirely. So? So what? What's your point? Do you even have one, bird boy? His mind was mocking him, repeating Jason's words.

"Do you want to be on the Team, or not?" Robin asked.

Jason shifted, and out of the corner of his eye Robin saw the flash of the gun handle again. His jaw clenched as he fought not to react, but even that was a reaction. Jason noticed, and swept the side of his jacket back as he put his hand on his hip. A silent challenge.

"Do you?" Robin asked again, his voice hardening.

Tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes, but he forced them back. He didn't want to look weak, especially in front of Jason, especially at a time like this.

Jason regarded him in silence. Or maybe he was just staring off into the distance and Robin's face happened to be in the way.

"YeahIdo," Jason said.

It was so quick that it took Robin a couple of seconds to process what he'd said. When the words finally made sense, his eyes lit up. But at the same time, it felt like a fist to the gut.

Starry-eyed and vomiting, nagged his brain. Aren't you a treat?

"Really?" Robin asked, and he sounded about as wondrous as he felt.

"Yeah, I would like to be on the team."

Robin opened his mouth to respond, but Jason cut him off. He leaned in close to him, teeth bared, and that fire back in his eyes. His hand was on the gun; Robin felt a wave of fear.

"But it's not worth it," Jason growled.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving Robin standing alone on the rooftop, his mind in turmoil.

The fuck just happened? Robin thought.

"He'll be back," a voice said in the darkness.

Robin pulled his bird-a-rangs free from his belt, aiming them at the shadows that stretched across the roof. But he didn't throw them, only held them at the ready. Subconsciously he knew why.

From the shadows stepped a figure even taller than Jason, and dressed all in black, his mask made to incite fear.

But Robin didn't fear him.

"Batman," he said, lowering the bird-a-rangs.

"Don't worry about him," Batman said.

Robin opened his mouth, but no words formed. Come on, speak! he thought. Speak!

"How can I not?" he finally forced out. "Jason–"

"Is not your concern," Batman finished for him. "He's after the Joker–"

"Aren't you brilliant," Robin snapped at him. "How long have you been standing there? Listening to our conversation? Just hiding out in the shadows like you've been doing your whole life?"

He'd gone too far.

Robin snapped his mouth shut and lowered his gaze, ashamed. He could feel Batman's glare prickling down his spine. Oh, you fucked up, nagged his brain.

"Robin," Batman said, and Robin knew he was supposed to look up.

He didn't.

"Robin," Batman said, more forceful. "Robin, look at me."

He finally forced his eyes up. The glare behind the bat mask was even worse than he pictured, and it felt like his eyes were burning just looking at it.

"I'll go after Jason, you worry about your team." Pause. "Understand?"

No answer.

The white slits of his eyes narrowed as he waited for Robin to say, Understood. But the word never came. Somewhere, deep down inside of Batman, he felt a small bit of pride. Robin had grown, become a leader in his own right, no longer gave into his fear, refused to be intimidated.

I taught you well, Batman wanted to say.

"He's not your responsibility," Robin finally said. Even after he'd chosen his words carefully, they sounded dumb. "He's as much mine as he is your's. Besides, you didn't even know he was alive until… Well, you didn't."

"You're right, I didn't," Batman said. His voice softened when he admitted it. "I didn't know he was alive. The only reason I know was because Cyborg called me."

Cyborg called you? The question rang in Robin's head.

Then, Damn it, Cyborg.

Batman walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. Robin sighed, like he was admitting that he was in over his head once again. Like he was back to being some pathetic sidekick. And he found that he didn't mind. Not this time, at least.

"They're worried about you, back in Jump City."

With the pause in their conversation, it was expected that Robin would say something in return. But he didn't. And Batman knew he wouldn't; he was the boy's (albeit adoptive) father, after all.

"Go back to your team."

"No!" Robin said with a shake of his head. "You didn't even know he was alive. He came to me. I was his focus. If anyone should go after him, it ought to be me." He jabbed his thumb at himself for emphasis.

Gone too far again? he wondered.

"You're right."

Those were words Robin never expected to hear from him. He looked bewildered, and it showed on his face despite the mask. I'm right?

"You should go after Jason." Batman turned and started to sink back into the shadows, his cape and cowl fading into deep black. "I trust you can handle this." Before he disappeared entirely, he left Robin with his last words; "Just remember, he's still my son."


	13. Chapter 13

Plasmus was knocked unconscious, and the massive amounts of slime and goo splattered throughout the old warehouse, coating all the biochemical waste and exposed metal beams. When the mess finally stopped raining down on the four Titans, Raven lowered her shield.

"Yuck!" Beast Boy said, sticking his tongue out. "Can you think of anything nastier?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Cyborg teased. He chuckled as Beast Boy exaggerated offense, then stepped forward to go analyze the man in the middle of the mess.

"Good thing he's out now," Cyborg said to himself.

"Indeed," Starfire chimed in. "If not, he would still be the overtly disgusting monster by the name of Plasmus, come to wreak havoc on our beloved Jump City."

"You said it!" Beast Boy agreed.

The doors of the warehouse were slammed open.

All four of them jumped, summoning their powers to defend theirselves. When the saw that it was Robin who stood at the threshold, they lowered their weapons. From the distance, they could sense Robin's fury, coming at them in invisible waves. Raven stopped flying and knelt down on the ground, his rage causing her physical pain.

Robin's hands were clenched into fists as he marched forward, striding up to Cyborg with murder in his eyes. Cyborg backed up; he'd only seen Robin like this a handful of times, and each and every time it scared him. Robin bared his teeth right before shouting, "Why'd you do it?"

His voice echoed in the room, pounding into their ears.

"Uh…could you be more specific?" Cyborg asked.

"You called Batman?!"

A stunned silence followed when his voice finally stopped reverberating around the room. Cyborg looked sorry for a moment, but then sized himself back up.

"Someone had to! Robin, come on man, you know that that wasn't something to be taken lightly."

Cyborg felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Except a brick wall would have more patience, and wouldn't yell at you.

Robin grit his teeth again, and his body was starting to tremble with anger. Take a deep breath, the reasonable part of his brain said. Screaming will get you nowhere.

"I had it under control," Robin shot back. His voice didn't echo this time.

"Like hell you did," Cyborg returned. "I'm not going to apologize for calling him. I had every right to."

Robin groaned and put a hand to his head. He rubbed at his temples, were small veins were protruding.

"Dude, just take a deep breath," Beast Boy offered. The glare Robin gave him made him shrink back, and then turn into a turtle tucked inside its shell.

Robin turned his glare back to Cyborg. Cyborg only stared back down at him, a glare of his own on his face. He crossed his arms in front of himself, and only waited for Robin to do whatever it was he was going to do next. Let him scream, Cyborg thought. Let him scream and rant and complain; I was in the right here.

Robin ground his teeth together, trying to think of something–anything–that would make Cyborg understand how stupid his decision had been. He'd had everything under control! There had been no need to call Batman!

"Thanks to you," Robin snarled, pointing a finger at Cyborg, "he's gonna be breathing down my neck the entire time!"

"Entire time? Entire time of what? Your life? Get real," Cyborg shot back.

He leaned forward so that he could look at Robin eye-level, and Robin was suddenly aware of how short he was. First Jason, and then Batman, and now Cyborg. They all made him feel small and insignificant, and it only made him angrier.

Why am I so short? some part of his brain asked.

"I am being real!" he shot back at him. "And, no, I don't mean my entire life! I mean right now! This is serious, and you just had to call him in! Well I don't need him…I don't need any of you!"

His last words rang in the warehouse, leaving them all with a vague sense of dread. This wasn't the first time he'd said that, and most likely wouldn't be the last. But they all knew how it would turn out: not well.

"Do not say that!" Starfire cried.

Robin practically growled at her, and she shrunk back into the shadows just the same way Beast Boy had. Only Raven and Cyborg stood standing up to him. Raven had gotten to her feet eventually, steeling herself against the pounding waves of his emotions. Cyborg stood as his opponent, Raven as the witness. Both Beast Boy and Starfire hid behind Raven, Starfire's fists balled up in her cloak.

"Listen to her," Cyborg told him. His voice didn't sound as hard this time. Whether it was sympathy or pity and exhaustion, Cyborg didn't know. But he did know that Robin was about to do something they'd all regret. Now was the time to talk him out of it.

"No!" Robin shouted. A vein showed in his forehead. "I don't need Batman, and I don't need this team! I need to be able to trust the people I work with…the people I call my friends, and if I can't…"

He paused. Everyone held their breath as they waited for Robin to finish his sentence. Starfire gripped Raven's cloak harder, fearing and knowing his next words. Tears were starting to form in her eyes, but she didn't notice. Beast Boy's eyes were peaking out from beneath his shell, Raven stood stoic in front of him, and Cyborg looked like he was in physical pain.

"If I can't trust you…my own team…then I shouldn't even be on this team!" And there it was, the dreaded words they had all feared. "I'm not a part of this team anymore!" Robin continued. He blinked behind the mask as angry tears swelled up in his eyes.

A pained moan sounded behind them.

"Plasmus is waking up," Raven stated. "We'll get him to the hospital."

She flew over to him, Starfire and Beast Boy in her wake.

They left Robin and Cyborg there, standing and glaring at each other, matching their wills against each other. Cyborg didn't have that same anger in him that Robin did, and he felt it was pulling him down. A tiredness was in him, one that sleep wouldn't cure. But it wasn't at life, it was at Robin and his damned stubbornness.

"Look, Robin," Cyborg said, his voice returned to normal, "you don't have to do this alone. I know about Jason–"

Robin's eyes narrowed when he said his brother's name.

"–and I know what you must be going through. Trust me, I do."

"No, you don't," Robin told him. "You have no idea." Not wanting to hear any more, Robin turned and stormed out of the old warehouse.

"Robin!" Cyborg called after him, but Robin didn't want to hear it.

Cyborg's footsteps thudded against the cement, and Robin knew that he was running after him. Robin pulled his grappling hook from his belt and shot it out at a distant rooftop. Long before Cyborg could reach him, he pulled himself up and away from him. He landed on the rooftop with a soft thud, and once there, he collapsed.

Onto his ass he fell, and he put his head into his knees.

He wasn't overwhelmed. He wasn't. He was just so damned emotional. Batman didn't help, nor did Bruce. They didn't exactly make it worse, so to speak, but it didn't help, simply put. Robin only clenched his jaw until his teeth uncomfortably scraped against each other and tears threatened to spill out of his mask for the who-knew-how-many-nth time.

A dark presence lingered near him, and Robin knew that it was Raven's soul self silently observing him. He knew that feeling anywhere; of her when she was close to him, like a shadow cloaking his mind. Her presence lingered there for a whole minute before finally disappearing.

Checking up on me, like everyone always fucking does, Robin thought.

He didn't know how long he sat there brooding, but he wasn't keeping track of time, anyway. He just sat there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, staring out at the city before him.

Fuck, I'm turning into him, Robin realized then. All I need is a longer cape and some bat ears, and I'd be Batman. Maybe a growly voice, too. And more control over these fucking tears, he added silently.

He got up from his place on the roof and looked over at Titans Tower. Then over to the rest of the city. He checked his communicator quickly, and when he saw that there was no crime that needed his attention, he sighed in defeat. At least with crime, he'd be able to focus on something other than his anger. He'd be able to channel it, fight it out of him.

But no.

Not this time.

So far his only options were head out into the city with no point of direction or go back to the Tower and face Cyborg. Since Robin was still pissed off at him, he didn't want to see him. Didn't want to talk to him, or acknowledge him. Not now, not today. He'd go back because he'd need to collect his things if he was really quitting. But then where would he go?

He jumped down from the rooftop, and walked through the winding streets. He didn't know where he was going, but he trusted his feet to take him there. No one so much as noticed him, since he stuck to the back streets and empty roads and alleyways. He was an expert at navigating Jump City's rural underground...

Robin stopped. He knew this part of town too well.

He looked up at the building, and from where he stood up could see the bright, bold letters sitting atop the skyscraper.

WAYNE Enterprises

He blinked.

Well, if that's where his feet had wanted to take him. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, but he decided: Aw fuck it!

Jumping up onto the fire escape, he started to make his ascent. One flight of ladders, then another, then another. He kept climbing, until his all of it was just a monotonous motion without meaning. One ladder blurred into the next, and time became a concept that was slowly driven from his mind. By the time he'd gotten to the roof, his heart was pounding but his breath was even.

The giant letters proudly proclaimed: WAYNE.

And sitting cradling in the W was Jason, dressed in his Red X costume, looking out at the horizon and the giant T that broke it all up.

Robin didn't say anything. He approached quietly, but Jason still heard him coming. Neither moved for a long time, after Robin finally got right up behind him. A slight breeze blew through the city, lifting both of their capes.

"I've been thinking about your offer," Red X said without turning around.

"And…?"

Red X shrugged, still not bothering to look at him. Jason's eyes were focused on the giant T in the bay, watching it unblinkingly. A lot of thoughts were in his head, spinning around. He'd visited the Tower more times than Robin knew of, and Jason knew that Dick had been right.

He had wanted to be close to him. Even if it was just hopping on top of the Tower when none were the wiser, or breaking in to steal his suit, or playing his annoying games of cat and mouse with them, he wanted to be close to him. And that had been his way of doing it.

Jason thought that he'd been so stupid for not realizing it.

Sure, hitting up Jump City was pretty obvious, but then again Selina had insisted they cover more ground.

Jason could have gone to Star City, or Metropolis, or one of the small cities too small to even have superheroes and vigilantes jumping around in them. But nooo, Jason thought, I just had to come to Jump City!

Jump City is the most technologically advanced, he tried reasoning with himself, but he knew it was a shitty argument.

He sometimes had humored himself with the thought of living with Dick again. Of him being up there in that tower with him, talking and laughing, rekindling a relationship that had been broken for too long. Staring out at Jump City with his brother by his side. Being able to say they were on a team again. Being able to say that he had a family…

But he'd always push those thoughts away and curse himself for being so fucking stupid for allowing them in his head.

That would never, ever, on his life, happen.

It's not like he was loyal to Selina. That was just the problem: he wasn't loyal to anyone. Not to Bruce, not to Dick, not to anyone. Not anymore. None of them deserved it, and even if they did, he couldn't give it anyway.

Dying had put everything into perspective, and showed him things he'd wish he'd never seen. He'd already died once, so why put himself in a position to get killed again? Why follow Bruce if he was just going to replace you anyway? Why follow Dick if he refused even notice his absence? Why follow your own mother if she was just going to gift wrap you and hand you over to the Joker?

Dick sat down beside him on the W.

Jason still didn't look over, lost in thought as he was.

"So are you here to steal something, or is this more of a personal matter?" Dick asked him.

Finally, Jason looked over at him. Dick didn't know what he thought or what he was about to say, and the Red X mask over his face didn't help. He only stared at the white skull mask waiting for an answer.

"Both," he replied. "Wayne Tech has a lot of good stuff to steal, and it's pretty easy when you know a lot of the pass codes." Jason smiled beneath his mask. "Bruce's got so many different locks on things, he sometimes forgets to change them. Which means I–" he put a hand on his chest, "–endowed with such an incredible memory, am able to get through them like that!" He snapped.

"Why are you telling me this?" Robin asked.

"Just letting you know my criminal record," Red X replied. His voice sounded smug through the mechanical tone, but Dick knew better.

He wasn't smug; he was pained.

"You know I once stole from here," Robin said. He looked up at the sign, reminiscing. "Mostly high tech stuff, cutting edge and all that, but a few things that were scrap parts. I was working for Slade at the time, being blackmailed and forced into the job. It was either that or he would kill my friends. I think he might have known that this place–" he gestured to the WAYNE sign, "–would be personal."

"Why are you tell me this?" Red X shot at him. "No, wait, don't tell me. You're trying to 'connect with me.' Hoping we can bond over this 'shared experience,' or whatnot?" He chuckled but there was no humor in it.

"You are a master of deception," Robin said dryly.

"Any better and I could be Batman himself." Jason had meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left him, he scowled. His eyebrows knitted together over his eyes, and the expression was visible through his mask.

"Jason…"

"That's Red X to you, Bird Boy," Red X snapped at him. His scowl deepened; it would have rivaled even Batman's scowls.

His voice was bitter, and Robin had to recoil a little bit. Wanted to storm off, in fact. But this was Jason, and he wouldn't abandon him. Robin took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten; something that Raven had taught him when he was about to snap. Calmly, he looked at Jason.

Then he pulled his mask off.

"Dick, really?" Red X grumbled.

"Yes, really," he returned.

He glared at Dick behind the mask before looking out at the horizon again. His eyes landed on the giant T, because really, there was nowhere else to look. It dominated the view, both a beacon and a warning. Something to love and hate. Jason found it obnoxious, imposing. There was no pride in a life like his, and here Robin was proudly declaring himself to the world?

Despicable.

His decision seemed clear then.

Jason jumped up from his seat. "Go back to your Tower, Bird Boy," he said, pure venom in his voice. "I've got better things to do." With that, he pressed a button on his belt and teleported away.

Dick jumped up, reaching out for him before he could disappear. He didn't make it in time, and he was left grasping the empty air in front of him. Dick sighed, collapsing down onto his knees.

Refusing the team meant a dead Joker.


	14. Chapter 14

Jason stripped himself of his T shirt. 

He had spent a long time looking at himself in the mirror. Ever since he had crawled scared and disoriented from the Lazarus Pit and had woken up in Talia’s arms, he had looked at himself in the mirror. Stared at himself, really. He spent a long time studying himself, looking over his skin, his eyes, his hair, his arms. 

Since then, it had always seemed so strange to inhabit a body again. So he stared, at his flesh and blood vessel, eyes searching for something that a mirror couldn’t reflect. 

Jason reached forward and put a hand to the cold mirror. He slowly traced the outline of his face, the ovals of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the curves of his ears. He put his hand flat against the mirror where his neck was reflected.

He’d had so many dreams where he’d strangled himself. Now, as he looked at his reflection with his hand over the throat, he felt surprisingly empty. His eyes studied his knuckles, the bones underneath his fingers, the dirt underneath his nails.

Everything seemed so vacant to him. 

“I won’t kill anyone after I kill the Joker,” he said aloud. He tried his best to mean in. Somewhere, deep inside, there was still the Robin that Batman had trained, and the Jason that Bruce had raised. “I won’t kill anyone after I kill the Joker,” he repeated. He knew that his voice was cracking.

He closed his eyes, and transported himself back into his memories.

His earliest memory of his new life had begun with burning. A burning so powerful that it felt like his body was on fire and molted lava was being poured into his lungs and red hot pokers driven into his eyes. And then nothing. After the nothing had passed, waking up in someone’s arms. 

He remembered not knowing for the longest time. But dark eyes, dark brown hair framing a heart shaped face, light brown skin, a heavily accented voice. 

His first word of his second life: “Talia.”

Lips lifted into a smile. She spoke, but Jason couldn’t understand. He couldn’t even feel. He didn’t know where he was or what was happening. He didn’t understand having a body, but Talia kept him anchored. She smiled at him, and said what he now knew to be, “Come, Jason. I will help you.” Then nothing again.

“Why, Talia?” Jason asked aloud. “Why did you do it?” His voice was even more choked with tears. He opened his eyes again to see his semi-naked form staring back at him. His eyes were muddled with unspoken rage and tears and confusion and...somehow...emptiness. “You must have hated me.”

Why else would she have brought him back?

For those moments when he was dead, he was gone. Completely. Set free of a life of strife and pain. No hunger pangs, no bruises, no laughing clown with a crow bar. No more fights and no more streets and no more criminals. He was gone. He had reached bliss. He was free, free from all life had to offer him. And then he was pulled back into the world. Resurrected in a pit of glowing green liquid that felt like magma against his skin. 

He concluded a long time after that Talia had hated him. He didn’t believe it at first, didn’t even think of it that way. Talia had cradled him, brought him back to life, helped him learn to walk again, to speak again, to think again. She had seemed so kind and loving and gentled. So helpful. And then, as Jason regained his memories, he knew that Talia was none of those things.

Just the act of giving him his life back was cruel enough, but he knew who she was and what she had done and what she was capable of.

She hated him.

That Jason knew.

But he forgave her. He needed to. He knew that he needed to let go of it. Too much pain and anger and his life would feel even worse than it did now. Let go of it in order to live.

“I won’t kill myself,” Jason said, glaring at his own eyes in the mirror. “Joker killed me once. I won’t let him do it again.” 

I’ll stay alive, Jason promised himself. For nothing more than to defy the death that Joker had dealt. Joker had not succeeded, and so long as Jason was alive, he still had not succeeded. Die again, Jason thought to himself, and he wins. He’ll never win.

Jason walked away from the mirror and went to the duffel bag that sat beside him. Inside was his Red X suit, stolen and still in pristine condition. He lifted the suit up out of the bag, and held it out for him to look at. The red X was bright against the dark black fabric, crossing right over the right breast. 

Tossed in with that was the skull mask with the red X over the upper forehead. He considered it, and then put it back in his bag. He was planning for the future. He knew that if Red X was seen committing a murder, then he wouldn’t be able to work under that title anymore. 

Although, maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was time to ruin the mantle of Red X and then toss the suit into the fire. That one last final connection to his old life, the last final connection to his former adoptive brother, and then he could begin anew. Become a new masked thief. Maybe a cat like Selina?

He couldn’t help but brighten at the thought of him in cat ears and a black catsuit, demanding to be taken seriously with his knives and hand grenades as he collected up sapphires and rubies.

But still, he put the Red X suit away.

Red X had once been Dick, and he knew that someway, somehow, killing in the Red X suit would somehow link Robin to the murder. He couldn’t do that to him. 

But why not? Another voice in his head screamed.

Please, please stop, he silently begged. The last thing he needed was another spell of panic and confusion overtaking him. He buried his fists in the fabric, trying to ground himself to reality. 

When the spell had passed, he sighed. 

Inside the duffel bag was another mask. One that the Robins wore, except more worn and beaten up. And perhaps a bit too small for his face. An old mask that he had never worn before, but still gave him flashbacks.

Not mine, he reminded himself.

He put the mask on, adjusting until he could see properly. With that done, he threw a jacket over his top, though he didn’t really need it. The burning from the Lazarus pit was so damaging that he might never be cold again. 

Below him, several dozen feet, car horns blared and people screamed. It sounded far off to Jason, like he was watching a movie from another room. He let the mirror clatter next to the duffel bag and he looked over to where Joker had taken a hostage. 

The gun was in his bag. He could shoot him so easily. Just take his gun, line up the shot, and send the bullet straight through Joker’s head.

But that wouldn’t be satisfying enough. He wanted to kill the Joker up close, slow and painfully, he wanted to see the life leave his body and his eyes turn cold. He wanted Joker to know who he was, to know that fate had finally dealt it’s hand to him, and that his little victim had risen from the grave to kill him.

A wicked smile came to his face, one he was ashamed to say he wasn’t ashamed of. 

The mirror was left behind on the roof and Jason grabbed his duffel bag and slid down the fire escapes. He could feel the weight of the gun in the bottom of the bag, and he thought of it like an anchor. Not of something that weighed him down, but something that could keep him from losing himself. 

Thoughts of revenge--of sweet, sweet revenge--filled his head as he slowly made his way towards the chaos. 

No one so much as noticed him as he made his way through the crowds, slowly approaching Joker and his hostage. He approached from behind him, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to sneak up on him, since a wide circle of police were around him. 

Jason just knew that Batman would be here, somewhere in this madness. But so far, he hadn’t seen him. Jason didn’t care whether or not it was strange, for he had only one thing in mind, and that was the Joker’s death. It was so close he could almost taste it.

“I just need to get to him,” he whispered.

Another peal of manic laughter rang throughout the streets, and then a muffled scream, a bullet being fired, and a riot of policemen all attacking at once. The Joker seemed like dead meat, and Jason couldn’t allow anyone else the satisfaction of killing him. 

Joker killed several police officers as he laughed, spinning around like a drunken ballerina, his finger constantly on the trigger. The radio was alight with calls for backup, all units respond, we have a code red here.

Joker laughed and danced his way through the crowd, not a bullet seeming to hit him. Jason decided then that whatever fate or karma controlled the universe, it was being good to him today. It was saving the Joker for him.

A bullet tore through the Joker’s arm, and blood spurted out onto his tattered suit. He paid it no mind, but merely strolled over to the line of defenses. The cops looked like they were about ready to shit themselves. 

“Say...Officer Toms is it? I hear you have a lovely family. I hope you left them a good some of money in your will.” More laughter.

Make it stop! Jason’s mind screamed. Make it stop! Make the laughter stop! 

His breath was coming in short bursts, and his heart rate sped up. He put a hand to his chest, trying to breath steadily again. His hands and arms were starting to shake, and he could feel panic rising up in him. His legs wanted to give out beneath him, and he wanted nothing more than to just curl up in a corner and make it all go away.

He didn’t know what happened next. 

All he knew was that tears were falling from his eyes, his heart was racing a million miles an hour, and his lungs were fighting for breath. Jason backed away from the chaos, into a small dark corner on the bridge, and sat down. He curled his legs close to his chest, and slammed his hands over his ears. Tears started falling and he couldn’t stop them.

Make it stop! his mind kept screaming. Make it stop! Make the laughter stop! Make it stop! 

Even with his hands over his ears, he could still hear Joker’s laughter in his head.


	15. Chapter 15

Dick had to wonder how it had all happened.

Only a week ago he’d been Robin, The Boy Wonder, Leader of the Teen Titans West. He’d had a clear idea of what was right and what was wrong, and his morals were steadfast. He’d had his friends, his home, a place in their lives that meant something to each of them. He’d had his mission: the protect the city from evil, and to keep the people of Jump City safe. Everything was clear in his life; what he was supposed to do and what was right.

But then Jason came back to life, and everything changed.

Now, as he ran through the alleyways, he couldn’t help but hate himself. He’d given it all up. Everything had been taken from him, thanks to Jason’s return, and Dick not knowing how to choose between his brother and his team. He’d been willing to pardon a criminal just because he was family, and he’d been willing to excuse Jason’s plan to killer the Joker because Joker was a killer himself.

Dick’s heart was pounding but he couldn’t hear it; all he could hear was the rasp of his breath as he ran, the slap of his boots up against the ground, and the occasional splash of the puddles around his feet. His mind was buzzing with thoughts, all colliding in his head as he thought about the past week of his life. Jason. Red X. His team. He’d quit. 

He held the tracker in his hand, a small mechanical device that picked up on xenothium readings across the map of the city. Dick knew that he was close to the latest surge of xenothium. A small red dot blinked his location at him, and according to this, all he needed to do was to round another building and then hop a fence.

The fence was less than ten feet away.

Dick jumped, gloved hands grabbing the top of the chainlink fence, and he flipped himself over. He still held the tracker in his hand as he spun, causing him to lose his balance. His cape snapped on the rusty metal, and Dick yanked on it the last second. It tore open, and Dick cursed.

He didn’t dwell on it long.

He needed to find Jason. But when he rounded a corner, he didn’t find Jason. All he found was a busy street in it’s place, the traffic backed up for miles and a bunch of bored drivers sitting at the wheel. He saw a couple of people look at him, but he didn’t care. 

He looked down at the tracker again.

“He’s gotta be on the roof,” Dick said to himself, and then spun around to search for a fire escape. 

He climbed quickly, breath coming out in short bursts, and metal clanging against metal. He didn’t know how fast he was going, only that it wasn’t fast enough. The top of the building seemed so far away and no matter how quick he was it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. He knew that his mind was playing tricks on him, but he couldn’t help but panic. Maybe he would never make it to the top, and he’d never find Jason. 

But the top soon came and Dick flipped himself over the side of the building. The tracker was pocketed and he looked around.

No Jason. 

But Dick knew he had to have been here. The xenothium was evidence of that. He walked around the roof, spying a mirror laying flat down on the concrete roof. He went over and picked it up.

Dick recoiled from the image of himself. He knew that he was a sight for sore eyes, but he didn’t know he looked quite like this. The bags under his eyes were so deep that not even the mask could hide it, he had bruises and cuts all over his body, his hair was a wet mess and had a bit of grime in it…probably a bit of blood, too…and on top of all that was the torn and ragged condition his uniform was in.

He dropped the mirror back down, making it crack.

Seven years of bad luck, he thought to himself as he walked away from it. Not like I’ll notice that much of a difference.

Car horns blared, and then Dick could see a giant spotlight searching. He went to the edge of the building overlooking a small bridge to see a car crash. A fairly big car crash, at that. Smaller cars were piled up and some were hanging off the side of the bridge, and in the middle of the mess was a semi-truck that had collided with a fire truck. Police cruisers surrounded the whole thing. 

On top of all that, the Bat Signal was bright against the dark clouds.

“Terrific,” he mumbled with a frown on his face. With all the shit he was dealing with, he didn’t need Batman butting in now.

Dick’s eyes roamed over the mess, and to his happiness, he didn’t see Batman anywhere near the disaster. Still, Dick knew he could be hiding out in the shadows, like he always did. For all he knew, he could be one of the people in the cars, disguised and waiting for opportunity. Seemed like something he would do.

“Jason ought to be in that mess,” Dick whispered, thinking aloud. “The Joker’s there, he’s gotta be there…”

Dick jumped down, taking the escape ladders two at a time. He couldn’t get down there fast enough. He had to push past the few people that were there, and he noticed that some of the reporters mentioned his presence…that and his “horrid appearance.” But few people were there, all having fled when the Joker opened fire for the tenth time that night.

“Fuck this, I’m outta here,” Robin heard one reporter say, right before they and the cameraman jumped back into the van and drove off.

Robin found Jason huddled in a corner, breathing hard and hugging himself tightly. He thought he recognized the look; after his parents had been killed, he’d spent a lot of time looking like that. Scared and scarred, ragged and fragile. 

“Jason…” Dick tried to say. 

He approached slowly. Kneeling down, he put a hand on Jason’s knee, only to have Jason jerk away from him. “Don’t touch me,” Jason said, his voice shaking. Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Jason then mumbled, “Make it stop. Make it stop.” Jason put his hands to his ears again and shook his head.

Dick wanted to help him, but he just didn’t know how. 

When he had been like this, he needed a friend. Someone to help him, be with him, stay with him, offer him comfort and a shoulder to cry on. Jason was nothing like this. 

“Jason! Tell me what’s wrong!” Robin had to shout to be heard over the sirens and gunshots. “Tell me what’s wrong! I wanna help you!”

Jason shook his head again, and Robin noticed for the first time that tears were streaking down his cheeks. He’d seen Jason cry only one time before, and that was only after he’d taken pepper spray in the face. Dick put both his hands on Jason’s shoulders, and he had to resist the urge to pull him into a hug.

“Make it stop,” Jason kept chanting. “Make it stop, make it stop.”

Dick couldn’t resist. As awkward and uncomfortable as it was, Dick pulled Jason into a hug. Bony elbows pushed into Dick’s arms, and Jason’s knees jabbed into his stomach, and Jason still didn’t stop muttering. But he didn’t care. 

After a while, Dick was able to hug him tighter, his shuddering having stopped. His hands still remained clamped over his ears, though. Jason’s body slowly relaxed, the tension being worked out of him through the silence ringing in his ears. No clown laugher. And then, and only then, did he become aware of Dick’s embrace.

He sighed, his panic attack subsided, and laid his forehead up against Dick’s shoulder. He didn’t know how long it had been since he last hugged his brother.


	16. Chapter 16

It took a few minutes before Jason was able to pull away from Dick. His eyes opened and he saw that the line of cops and Joker had moved farther away from them. They were almost entirely off the bridge, chasing Joker in his stolen car that he was smashing in attempt to get away.

Slowly, Jason pulled his hands away from his ears. He braced himself, prepared to hear that horrible laughter suffocating his ears again. Nothing. Joker was far too far away for his laughter to reach Jason. He sighed in relief. 

Dick put a hand to Jason’s shoulder. Jason paid no attention to it.

“You okay?” Dick asked him.

Jason said nothing in response. He was about to ask again when Jason suddenly stood up. Dick still didn’t know if Jason had heard him and was ignoring him, or if he was still trying to recover and just didn’t register that he was there. Dick put his hand on Jason’s shoulder again, but Jason still didn’t acknowledge him.

“Jason?” Dick asked. 

Jason leaned up against the stone and metal fence of the bridge, his eyes locked on his feet. Images were swarming in front of his eyes, and he waited patiently for them to stop. Bright and muddled colors swam before him until his vision sharpened. Even then, he was lost in his mind.

Cracks in the concrete became smiles and gory eyes. The slightest of breezes carried chuckles. There was a stench in the air, the odor of blood and fear, and it drove a spike right through his brain. Jason’s fingers twitched, wanting to hold a knife, wanting to be balled up into fists, wanting to slap something, wanting to claw something, wanting and wanting and wanting…

“Jason?” Dick tried again. He shook Jason’s shoulder, softly at first, and then harder as Jason remained still and quiet. He waved his hand up and down in front of Jason’s face, then snapped his fingers right in front of him. Jason made no response. His eyes were glazed over and his mind was far, far away.

Dick sighed. “Sorry about this,” he said, and then slapped Jason across the face.

Jason staggered back, his hand flying up to his cheek, and slowly he started to process what was happening around him. He was numb for the longest time, but eventually he could feel stinging pain starting to bite at his face. 

Dick. There was Dick, in his Robin costume–his very torn up and dirty Robin costume–standing in front of him, his masked face waiting for Jason to recognize him. Jason slowly stood up, blinking a few times, before he shoved Dick backwards. He stumbled a fell to the ground.

“What the fuck?” Jason shouted. 

“Well, nothing else would get your attention,” Dick replied, jumping back onto his feet. He stood as tall as he could, squaring up to Jason. They glared at each other. “Hell, that barely got your attention.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bird brain,” Jason growled. “You have my attention. So, what the fuck do you want?” His eyes started watering, but he didn’t notice. Even when they started falling down his cheeks, he didn’t wipe them away. 

“I want for you to be okay. I want for you to come back to Jump City, and not torture yourself by going after him–” Dick pointed across the bridge to where the commotion was. Gunshots still rang out, and faded screams followed.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re not getting that.” Jason stepped away from him just as Dick reached out for his shoulder. “And stop touching me,” he added.

“Sorry,” Dick mumbled.

A few minutes of silence passed between them. All the screams and gunshots and car crashes were just white noise in the background as they stood there on the bridge. Time seemed to stand still for that moment, right then and there. Dick wanted to talk to Jason, to comfort him and somehow make things go back to the way they were before. Before Jason died, before he left Gotham, before, before, before…

And Jason?

Jason didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to kill Joker, but even that seemed like a hollow wish. Maybe he needed to kill him. Maybe it was just some mental tick that would never go away until Joker was gone. And Jason was having a hard time thinking beyond that. What would he do then? Die again? Go back to Selina? Go to Jump City with Dick? Just leave all together and go back to being a starving street kid?

He wanted to sigh. That much he knew he wanted.

“I’m going to help you,” Dick said to him then.

Jason looked over at him. “What?”

“I’m going to help you. I don’t care what I have to do, but I want you healthy again. I want you safe again. I know that we might never see each other again, that we might never get along again, but I want you to…well–” he paused, searching for the right words, “–I don’t want you to have another night like this.”

Jason was quiet as he let Dick’s words sink into him. “You really mean it?” He almost couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes. I don’t care what I have to do, Jason. You’re my brother, you died once, I’m not going to let you live like this.” Dick glanced away from him. “Even…” He swallowed past a lump in his throat. His words came out choked when he said, “Even if it means…maiming…The Joker.”

Jason groaned. “You still can’t bring yourself to kill. Can you?”

“No,” Dick said. “I can’t.”

“But if I kill him, you won’t stop me?”

“Yes.” 

Something strange swelled in Jason’s heart. He couldn’t explain it, no more than he could explain the uncalled-for happiness, or the sudden burning in his eyes, or the vengeful confusion he felt by looking at Robin. Jason took long breaths, trying to sort through the onslaught of emotions. 

Only a physiatrist could figure this out, Jason thought. 

A memory slammed into him. One that he’d forgotten he made. Another laughing maniac passed through his brain, one with pigtails and a doctor’s coat. He pushed her out of his mind, but something about her made his head spin. It was a memory, one that he had forgotten. He couldn’t remember, but he knew that he had met Harley, had said something, but that was it. It was all shadows and gibberish. 

“Jason?” Dick asked. 

“Do you ever stop saying my name?” Jason asked. He smiled at Dick; a small smile that looked painful to him, and made his eyes crinkle, but it was a smile nonetheless.

No, not a smile. A peace-offering. A temporary truce. An agreement. Jason would accept Dick’s help. For tonight. He made no promises about anything after that. After Joker was dead, he didn’t know and didn’t care what happened then. He expected nothing, he planned for nothing. 

“You coming or leaving?” Jason asked, stopping down to pick up the duffel bag. 

Dick hung his head, staring at his feet. He looked ashamed of himself, and he had to force the words from his throat. “I’m going with you.”

Jason nodded.

He started walking off, Dick walking behind him. 

Jason stopped suddenly. “Dick,” Jason said, slowly and quietly, “thanks.” A smile that was less painful appeared on his face. 

“Don’t mention it,” Dick replied. “Please.”


	17. Bonus Chapter!

Batman dangled from the ceiling, watching as Harley sipped at a soda and flicked through a magazine. She wasn’t really paying any attention to him, though he noticed her eyes land on him every turn of the page, just to make sure he was still there and still chained up.

He took in his surroundings instantly. 

In the center was Harley Quinzel, in her harlequin suit, her jester hat gone but her white face paint and black lipstick on her face. She sat in an old beat-up red chair, one that looked like it had suffered a few bullets through the padding and had been scratched by thirteen cats over a period of thirteen years, giving the condition of the wooden legs and sturdy red fabric having been torn out. She read a magazine called Safari Pro, with an image of wild hyenas on the cover, and he knew that it was an old issue from however many years ago. There were creases on the glossy pages, and a distinct bend to the entire thing. She drank soda pop that was colored red through a straw.

It was dark out, and by the shift of the sun and the light of the sky, he surmised that it was nine forty nine at night. 

He himself was dangling from an exposed metal beam in an old warehouse. He surmised that the old warehouse used to be storage for a pillow making factory, given by some of the machines he’d been able to spot a while back. Beneath his was a concrete floor, looking about seventy years old from the discoloration. He had chains wrapped around his body, four times around his legs, three times around his torso, and three times around his wrists, his fingers bent at odd angles that made them ache.

He’d been chained up for about fifty minutes, he assumed, and he knew for certain that he’d only been awake for thirty three minutes.

“What’s this about, Quinn?” Batman asked her. “You’re not trying to kill me, barely bothering to look at me. So far it’s been no gloating, no evil plan, nothing. So what’s the point?”

This wasn’t the first time he’d asked her a series of these questions, but he knew how to get his answers. He was careful with his words, picking them slowly, choosing them right, timing them just perfectly. 

“Eh, Bats, ya really need tah learn tah relax. Besides, I thought ya’d have figured out what’s goin’ all by now, what with that big ol’ bat brain of ya’s.” Harley flicked another page of the Safari magazine, continuing her reading of illegal meerkat poaching. “I tell ya, Bats, some people can be real jerks,” she said, shaking her head at the article.

“Tell me about it,” he growled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, relax, would ya?!” Harley said. “There ain’t no city in peril, so just calm the fuck down.”

“Really?” Batman asked. “No city in peril? Because if I remember correctly, you had just sprung the Joker free from Arkham.”

Harley tsked. “Arkham’s a fairly easy place tah escape from, or haven’t ya noticed?”

Batman remained silent for a long time. Then, “You made a point of hating Joker. You also made a point of wishing him dead.”

“Right-a-rooney,” Harley said, shrugging like it was nothing.

“So why help him? Because that’s what it has to be about. You helped Joker escape, and now you have me here so I can’t interfere with Joker’s plans.” Batman waited for her to say something, because he knew she would. If there was one thing he knew about criminals and geniuses, it’s that they love to gloat.

“Ha! That’s where your wrong, B-Man,” Harley said, black lips parting to reveal a smile. One that looked somewhat normal. At least she never laughed like the Joker did.

“Is it?” Batman asked, the wheels in his head turning.

“Uh huh.”

“Then if you’re not assisting Joker, you’re assisting someone who wants the Joker.” He paused, studying her body language. A slight tense of the muscles, a quick shift of the eyes. Even with all the blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy, he could still see the tell-tale signs. “Someone wants the Joker…most likely for revenge, since you swore you’d never help that clown again…and you assisted them.”

Harley remained quiet.

“You broke the Joker out to send him to his death, didn’t you?!”

“Eh, what of it?!” Harley shouted at him. “So what? We’d all be better off without that clown anyhow. I know for a fact that you’ve fantasized about him dyin’. Plenty of times! Like bein’ crushed on a sidewalk! Or crashin’ his car! Or anything! You want him gone, I want him gone, and now he’s gonna get gone!”

Harley had marched up into Batman’s face while she talked, and now she was only an inch away from Batman’s face, their eyes locked. 

“I know you don’t kill, but there ain’t nothing wrong with lettin’ him die!” she told him.

“I don’t condemn killing, even passively.”

“Lettin’ someone die ain’t killing them,” Harley insisted, stepping back away from Batman and going back to her old red chair. “Hell, when I was studying tah be a doctor, I knew people that let people die. Sometimes it was an assisted suicide, y’know? They were dying and didn’t want tah be saved. Other times, Bats, other times they just didn’t help them ‘cause they couldn’t pay. I don’t see you going after them.”

Batman remained silent.

“Ya know what your problem is, Bats? Too self-righteous. You’ll go after the mentally ill who dress up in crazy costumes, but you won’t go after the doctors who’ve put people in graves?”

“You do make a good point, Harley,” Batman told her. “But here’s the thing, I’ve gone after them just as much as I go after you.”

“Well I ain’t never seen it,” she said.

She’s turning the tables, Batman knew. He needed answers from her, not for her to be talking about him. She’d be making him the one who needed to justify his actions, and he’d done that a million times over, both in his own head and in his determination to do things by the books. 

He would admit though, Harley was every bit of the brilliant doctor that she had trained to be. Few people could get under his skin like that, and Harley did it with ease.

“You on the other hand,” Batman said, “you just let out a killer. Assisted him in escaping and now letting him run amuck in the city. You know the Joker is dangerous, and yet you’re still by his side as he kills mercilessly.”

“No more,” Harley corrected. “I ain’t with him any more.”

“Your actions say otherwise,” Batman said.

“Well, then, let me tell ya that you were right in your earlier assumption. I did spring Mistah J, but not for him. I sent him to his death, and then signed the certificate myself.”

Batman glared at her. Harley didn’t care. She kicked her feet, a sign that she was anxious. Her muscles were still somewhat tense, and her fingers were fidgeting.

“You’re helping someone who will kill the Joker, and I’m here so that I don’t stop them from killing him,” Batman said aloud.

“Smarter than ya look,” Harley said with a smirk.

Batman smirked back at her. “Does the name Red X sound familiar?”

Judging by Harley’s reaction, it did.

“Red X and you have two things in common. You don’t like the Joker, and you don’t like me. So making a deal with him was easy. You help him by delivering the Joker to him, and he helps you by killing the Joker.”

Harley was chewing at her lip. 

“Tell me I’m wrong, Harleen,” he dared.

She scowled and said, “Fine. You’re wrong.” She crossed her arms for emphasis. “But hey, you’re right.” She pouted, and balled her hands up into fists.

A long minute of silence drifted between them, at which Batman still fumbled with the chains. He was quiet in doing so, expertly quiet. His gloved fingers were picking at all the little flaws in the chains, and he surmised that within the next six minutes he would be free. But, as he felt around, he knew that a quick snap was about to make noise. Nothing loud, but something that was audible.

“So tell me, aren’t you curious as to why Red X wants the Joker dead?” he asked her.

Harley took the bait. “Not really. Joker has a lot of enemies. And I mean a lot of them. If I’m curious about anything, it would be who wouldn’t want the Joker dead.” Pause. “Aside from you, that is.” She scowled at him and crossed her arms again. 

“And, for a long time, you too,” Batman replied.

Harley sighed. “Yeah, for a long time, but now I want him dead just as much as anyone else. Joker’s horrible, for both Gotham and me. I hate him, but I love him too. I know myself pretty well, Bats, and I know for a fact that no matter how much a I hate him, no matter how much he beats me, no matter what he’s done…I know that the second he smiles and opens his arms, I’d jump straight intah them, no questions asked.”

She sighed.

“But I suppose ya know that already. I can’t say no to him, and though I’ve tried to kill him, something always stops me. Whether it be a fake gun with no bullets, or a bad aim that misses his head, or a certain caped crusader who always snatches my hand away at the last minute…it’s always something.

“The only way I can free myself from him is with his death. If not, I’m just gonna keep going back to him, over and over again.”

Batman was almost free, he just needed one more minute, and then his chains would slide off of him, he’d be able to get to his belt, and go after Jason before he made a mistake.

“And Red X?” Batman asked her.

“What about ‘im?” Harley asked. “Everyone wants Joker dead. He was just the first person tah ask me tah work with him. Nice kid. Smooth talker. Nice suit, too.”

“He was a nice kid,” Batman agreed.

“How–?” Harley started to say, then it hit her. “Ya knew him, didn’t ya?” she asked.

“Yes,” Batman said with a nod.

“An old friend of your’s?”

“Something like that.”

Harley frowned, and gave him a look that could have been sympathetic, if Batman could see past the black mask. “Well, sorry tah hear that Bats,” she said. She sounded sincere enough.

“Nothing you could have done to stop it,” he told her.

“I coulda killed Mistah J a long time ago, and then your friend wouldn’tah been hurt.”

Batman said nothing.

Harley was used to his silence, except this time it felt heavier around them.

“I really am sorry for ya,” Harley said. “Mistah J ruins everyone’s lives.”

Just then, the chains broke free. A metallic rattle and clunk made Harley nearly jump out of her skin. She raced backwards, trying to get away from him, but he was on her fast. She had just enough time to duck before Batman unfolded his cape and come down on her. He glared at her through the mask, the white slits of his eyes narrowing.

“My belt,” he growled.

Harley reached into her suit and brought it out, holding it out to him. Not a single thing had been taken or tampered with, not even as single pocket opened. Batman snatched it from her hand and clicked it on. In a blink of an eye, Batman was gone, disappearing into the shadows just as he always did, leaving Harley alone in the warehouse.

“Well Mistah X ain’t gonna be too happy about this,” Harley thought aloud. She rubbed her head and stood back up, searching the rafters for some sign of a bat cape. Nothing. He was completely gone, the chains on the floor and her deal with Red X broken.

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” Harley said quietly to herself. “But luckily, I don’t care either way. If he dies, I never have tah see that shit bag again. But if he doesn’t, then get to see my puddin’ again.”


	18. Chapter 18

The alleyway was dark and long and winding. Jason and Dick kept following it for as long as it went, taking one or two at a time, making their way through the city on the backstreets and hidden valleys in between the skyscrapers. 

Dick couldn’t help but feel like he was in the Labyrinth. The way the walls towered before him, the maze of streets that he kept walking along, and of course, what lay at the end of it. It was no flesh-eating Minotaur. It was much worse than that. It was a laughing, scowling, gun-wielding Joker that lay at the end of this maze. His insides twisted every time he thought about it.

Jason felt no better than Dick did. The only thing that drove him on was his need for revenge. His anxiety was acting up because he swore he could hear echoes of that horrible laughter ringing in his ears, bouncing off the brick walls and windows, filling the alleyways.

He didn’t like it, and he kept squeezing the knife in his hand, trying to force the anxiety out of him. It only gave him sore fingers and bruised skin. 

“He’ll be dead soon,” Jason whispered to himself, just to keep him going.

Dick pretended not to hear him.

Red and blue lights flashed up ahead. They’d been following the cop cars all night, Dick listening to the police scanners on his Titans communicator. 

“Joker heading North. All units respond,” came the crackling voice. “Last seen on the outskirts of Gotham, traveling along Haiman road.”

“Right where we should be,” Jason whispered, a malicious grin spreading across his face. He spun around to face Dick. “You ready?”

“I can’t!”

“What?” Jason asked.

“I can’t. Not like this.” He gestured to his Robin uniform. 

“What? Is it because of some moral code about Robin-hood or something like that? About how a Robin is supposed to never do this or that or some shit like that?” Jason rolled his eyes and grimaced.

“No. It’s not that,” Dick replied. “If Robin is seen there, then Robin will become wanted. No one would trust Robin anymore.” 

“So? You’re not killing the Joker. You’re watching out for your…for me. Besides, it’s the Joker. You’d probably get a standing ovation. Besides, you’re in Gotham right now, and you live in Jump City.”

Dick shook his head. “I couldn’t do that to Tim. He’s the Robin of Gotham…I’m a Robin in Gotham. You really think people would tell the difference. I do anything and Tim’s gonna be the one to blame.”

“So what?” Jason asked, crossing his arms. “I never liked Tim anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have anything against him.”

Jason was about to say something more, but Dick cut him off. “Look, I don’t care what we say or do, but one thing is gonna happen, and that’s that I’m not going any further until I get out of this uniform. Robin won’t be at the scene of the crime.”

Jason glared at him, and Dick glared right back.

“Fine,” Jason snapped. “What’d’you wanna wear?” He threw his duffel bag at Dick’s feet. “I got a few changes of clean clothes in there. Pick something out, put it on, and then stop fucking holding me up.”

Dick had just thrown off his gloves when he heard Jason’s accusation. “Holding you up?” Dick asked him, his teeth gritted.

“Yeah. Ever since you got here, I’ve been waiting for you. Well, let me tell you right now, Grayson, I’m not missing this chance because you have doubts every five steps.”

Dick opened his mouth to argue some more, but Jason shoved him back. 

“Don’t talk,” Jason demanded. “Just change.” 

Dick growled, but did as told. He unsnapped his Robin top and pulled it off of him. The cold wind hit him squarely in the chest, and goosebumps rose up on his skin. He had to clamp his jaw together to keep his teeth from chattering. He fished around in Jason’s duffel bag, ignoring the weapons and wallets, searching for something wearable. 

He pulled out a long sleeve top and pulled it on over him. Black. Perfect for sneaking around in. He looked down at his green pants and wondered if he should change those too. He didn’t have much time to think about it, for Jason kept shooting him dirty looks. 

Back into the duffel bag he went. He found a pair of clean (though somewhat torn) dark colored jeans and pulled them on over his leggings. He squeezed his metal tipped shoes through the pant legs, and then he stood up. He pinched the mask on his face, and pulled it off of him, tossing it in with the weapons on clothes.

“No mask?” Jason wondered aloud. He shrugged and said, “Eh. Suit yourself.”

Jason zipped the duffel bag up halfway before Dick stopped him. 

“What now?” Jason spat.

“No mask, but I’m not going in there bare-faced.” Dick unzipped it back and started fishing through it again. “Surely you’ve got to have something in here.”

“I gotta bandana,” he suggested.

“What, so I can wear it around my mouth and nose like a thug. No thanks.”

Jason groaned. “Then what? Another mask? A hockey mask? Shit, how ‘bout some makeup or face paint. Just smear it all over yourself, no one’ll know.” Dick kept looking around, and Jason’s nerves became more and more fried. “Can you pick something already. I’d like to catch up with him sometime this year.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Dick whispered to himself.

Another minute passed before he picked out another mask. One of the many Jason had stashed away. It was a completely different shape, and covered most of the forehead, cheeks, and nose. He put that on.

“You ready finally?” Jason asked.

Dick nodded and stood up. The duffel bag was zipped shut and slung over Jason’s shoulder. They ran through the alleyways this time, following the directions from the police scanners. Joker had passed through Haiman and was now driving a stolen police car down the seaside highway IPW.

They both knew that road. It was on Gotham’s northernmost border, right on the side of steep cliffs that fell down to a rocky shoreline that was almost always caught in a riptide. 

“This can’t end well,” Dick thought aloud.

“Attention all units: Officer Rakesh Singh spotted dead in the car with Joker. Was driving the police unit when Joker stole it. His body in the car is now dead, you can now shoot freely.”

Jason closed his eyes and slumped. Great. Another person dead because of him. Why the hell didn’t Batman just kill him? No one would have convicted him. No one in the world. Not the Joker’s henchies, not Harley, not even the hyenas that Harley’d raised. No one in the whole damn world. 

The buildings thinned out, and the moonlight shone on the both of them. They could see clearer. The streets turned into roads and into highways. A thick patch of pavement that wound around and around until it bordered up along the cliff, in between the hills and ocean. Highway IPW. 

In the distance flashed the bright colors of over a dozen cop cars, all of them hellbound on Joker and his guns. 

“We’ll never reach them on foot,” Dick said. He was somewhat happy about that. Maybe Jason would finally drop it and not go after him. 

But no.

“Come on,” Jason said, grabbing Dick by the wrist and dragging him over to one of the houses nearby. On the sidewalk, parked right by the curb, was an old beat-up motorcycle. 

“Jason, for the love of god, please tell me you’re not going to steal a motorcycle,” Dick hissed.

“Okay. I won’t you.”

“That’s it,” Dick said, pulling out his Titans communicator. “I’m not letting you steal someone’s–”

Jason broke Dick’s communicator, smashing it on the pavement and stomping his boot on it. Dick’s eyes widened, and for a moment he felt the urge to punch him. 

“You know I’m a thief. Besides, this I actually plan to return. Now come on.” 

The motorcycle revved to life. Jason swung his leg over the side, duffel bag securely tied to the sissy-bar on the back. Jason grabbed Dick’s hand, pulled him onto the motorcycle, and pumped on the gas. Dick lifted his feet up to avoid scraping them across the ground. The motorcycle screamed out and they shot down the highway. 

In the distance, Dick saw the lights of a house flash on, and someone run out of the door, screaming after them. 

“You’d better return this!” Dick shouted at Jason, but his words were lost on the wind.

Jason sped after the cop cars, pushing the motorcycle to ninety miles an hour just to catch up. It seemed like an eternity to Jason before the lights appeared brighter; to Dick, it was like the blink of an eye. 

Above them swooped a large bird, it’s shadow blocking out the stars.

Dick remained silent as Jason rode faster and faster. The speedometer was well past one hundred miles an hour, and Jason just kept his foot hard on the pedal. Dick saw the cruisers approaching fast, the lights filling up the entire sky, and their wailing rising over the engine of the motorcycle. 

“Jason!” he screamed in a panic. “Jason! Stop! We’re going to crash!”

Jason didn’t hear him, but when he saw the line of cruisers, blocking the entire street, he slammed his foot on the breaks. The wheels skidded, a horrible squealing filled the air, and the motorcycle flipped over. Their arms flew over their heads to protect themselves, and they skidded ten yards away before they stopped.

Their arms were sore and skinned, their clothes ripped, their bodies bruised. But other than that, they were fine. 

An officer rushed over to them. Dick tore the mask off of him, not wanting them to think he was a criminal. He felt hands on his arms, pulling him up. They held him tight as he fought to stay balanced on his feet. 

“You okay?”

Dick nodded. He felt the hands leave him, and then run over to Jason. It was another officer, one he didn’t recognize. Which was probably for the best. The last thing he needed was to run into some cop he knew. 

Jason stood on wobbly feet, and then thanked the officer. Dick walked over to Jason, trying to steady them both. 

“What are you boys doing out here?” she demanded of them.

“We were taking a long drive, trying to clear our heads, enjoy the fresh air,” Jason said, the lie rolling off his tongue so easily. 

“Well, get back to where you came. This highway is closed. Now, get,” she demanded.

Jason nodded and walked back to his duffel bag. Dick, stunned, followed after him. Jason winced as he pulled the duffel bag onto his shoulder. 

“Really? You’re really leaving? Just like that?” Dick asked.

“What? No.” Jason took off towards the hills, and Dick chased after him. “We’re going around. I’m so close, Dick. I’m so close I can almost taste his blood.” 

Do you have to say shit like that? Dick thought.

Dick got sorer and sorer as he followed Jason along the hills. Jason followed the path of the road, knowing Joker had come this way. He could still hear the sirens, could see the ghosts of the cop cars that had chased him down along this path, could follow his scent like a bloodhound. He knew Joker was there, and he tracked after him. A predator and his prey. Except this time, Jason swore that he wasn’t prey.

“There!” Jason said, pointing.

Dick stopped, all his bones aching, his skin throbbing, his eyes heavy, his whole body screaming with fatigue. He followed Jason’s finger. A police car had crashed into the railway between the cliff and sea far below, and four cars were parked in a circle around it.

“The stolen police unit has been found. Five miles to the North. Crashed into the barrier. Officer Singh found inside, Joker nowhere to be found. Last I saw of him, he jumped out of the car and over the cliff. We’ve been searching for him but we haven’t found any trace. It’s suspected he’s dead, having either collided with the rocks or drowned, but knowing Joker, that son of a bitch probably lived.”

Jason’s ears caught every single word from them. His hands balled into fists, and his eyes shone with the fire of vengeance and determination. The cops had lost him, and now Joker was all his. 

“Come on,” Jason said, gripping Dick’s wrist like a vise and pulling him along. He walked a ways away from the police so they wouldn’t be spotted, and then crossed the road to look out over the railway. Down below was the ocean, crashing against the rocks and the cliff side. 

The scream of a hawk overhead made Dick more awake. Jason glanced up at the sky, at the hawk’s shadow. 

“You think he got away? That he’s alive?” Dick asked Jason.

“I know he did,” Jason said. “I know he survived somehow. Maybe it was a parachute, or maybe some rock climbing gear, or maybe a conveniently placed boat or some shit. But he’s alive. He’s out there. Trust me.”

Jason could hear laugher echoing across the waves.

The laughter wasn’t in his head this time. Like the hawk above them, Jason could see Joker, far away, his body broken, soaking wet, nothing but a small little smudge of black in the darkness along the cliffs, but there he was. He was too far away to see what he was doing, only a vague shadow, a tiny glint of moving black.

There he is, Jason’s mind screamed.

“There he is,” Jason whispered.

“How are you gonna get to him?” Dick asked.

Jason glanced upwards, then said, “Like this.” He grabbed Dick by the shoulders and threw him over the cliff. Then he followed after him.


	19. Chapter 19

Dick didn’t scream; only fell. The wind rushed past him, the sea rose to meet him far too quickly, the cliff side threatening to scab him up. Vaguely he was aware of Jason throwing himself over with him. He wanted to scream at him, ask him what the hell was wrong with him. But nothing came out. It wasn’t fear that kept him silent; it was shock.

Jason couldn’t be trying to kill them both. Dick knew that somewhere in him. But it wasn’t until great eagle claws sunk into his clothes that he believed it. Jason wasn’t trying to kill him, only manipulate to get his way. The claws closed like a vice on his neckline, scraping his skin, and in the other claw was Jason, desperately clutching his duffel bag as the eagle carried them across the waves to a safe haven along the rocks.

The eagle swooped, his wings beating desperately as the two young men weighed him down. With a final flap, the eagle glided down, dropping both Jason and Dick onto a flat-ish rock admist the protruding, jagged shoreline. 

The eagle, green and dark with the night, transformed just as he hit the rocks. From claws came shoed feet, and from wings came arms that stopped him from falling flat on his face. Beast Boy was panting hard, struggling to catch his breath. With a final gasp of air, he straightened himself, and turned to face them.

Dick swallowed, trying to make his mouth work again. He opened his lips, trying to form words. But nothing happened. He grunted, trying to speak. 

Beast Boy stood up, but didn’t walk over to him. He looked from one face to another, accusingly. He crossed him arms in front of his skinny chest, like he was silently demanding answers but yet wouldn’t accept any. Like judge and jury, and he already found them both guilty.

“What…?” Dick cleared his throat again. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. Anger flared through him. He should be the one demanding answers, not Beast Boy.

“Saving your sorry ass is what I’m doing,” Beast Boy said. “Cyborg told me this guy is….is your brother. But I didn’t expect you to be helping him with crime. You stole some guy’s motorcycle, for crying out loud! How could you?” 

“You don’t understand,” Dick shot back.

“Then by all means, do the explaining to us,” said another voice. Starfire. He recognized it anywhere. She floated down from the darkness, her eyes softly aglow with green. She looked angry, but sympathetic also. “I have the curiosity to know what is befalling here.”

“She and I both.” Out from the shadows stepped Raven, Cyborg right beside her. Darkness had hidden her, cloaked her in shadows, so he didn’t see the two of them approach either.

Dick looked around. He was now surrounded by his teammates. His former teammates. All of them glared at him, some angrily, others with pity, some with confusion. All sorts of emotions were written on their faces, but he knew that their focus was all on him. His unmasked eyes darted past his shoulder to Jason.

“Richard, please do the explaining,” Starfire demanded, her eyes narrowing.

“I…” He trailed off. How could he even begin to go about this? 

“I’ll explain, beautiful,” Jason piped up. Dick grimaced; he was just going to make this worse. “Here’s what’s going on. You hear that laughing from over there? That’s the Joker–” his voice darkened as he said the name, “–and he’s a murderer. So I’m gonna kill him to set the score even. And Dick here is helping.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“No, no, that’s not how it is!” Dick quickly said, raising his hands in defense. “I mean, yeah, Joker is a murderer, but I’m not helping–”

Jason clasped a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Of course you’re not,” he said, his grip tightening. “He’s not helping, but he is assisting. He’s not pulling the trigger, but he is condoning. He’ll look the other way for me. Your leader, righteous and lawful and oh-so-goody-goody, is about to become an accessory to murder.” He looked each of them straight in the eye. “I know: you think you know a person, then they turn around and do something like this.”

They were all silent for a long time. 

Then, Starfire spoke up. “Richard, is this true?”

Dick tried to answer, he really did, but he just couldn’t find the right words. His silence, however, was all the answer they needed. Now, when they all looked at him, they didn’t see Robin. They saw Dick. They saw a person lost, in need of guidance, someone they could still yet save. But, at the same time, they saw a stranger. Someone they didn’t know anymore, someone they would fight if needed, someone suspect.

“Let me explain,” Dick pleaded. “You don’t know what is going on here.”

“We’re listening,” Raven told him. 

“We’re all listening,” Cyborg added.

“Yes, he is my brother. Jason. That’s his name.” 

Jason smiled and did a did a two-fingered salute to them all, making sure to wink at Starfire.

Dick continued: “Jason was a Robin too. But, uh, he died.”

Beast Boy snickered. “Please. If he died, then how is he standing here? He a zombie or something? Come back from the grave to eat our brains? Hah!”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Beast Boy, and bared his teeth. Dick knew he was about to snap at him–or even worse: lunge at him–but he put his arm out to grip Jason’s arm, stilling him.

“Well, technically yes.” 

Beast Boy sobered at this news. Still, he didn’t pout or look guilty in the least. Just perplexed. In a disbelieving sort of way. 

“Jason died. But he, uh, he was resurrected. Brought back from the dead. It destroyed his mind.”

“Hey!” Jason snapped.

“It’s true!” Dick said. “There’s this guy, Ra’s Al Ghul. He has a Lazarus Pit that can heal any ailments and bring the dead back to life and he used it on Jason.”

“Ra’s…” Raven whispered.

They all turned to look at her. 

“You know him?” Dick asked her.

She nodded. “He’s a demon. That much I know. I’ve seen him before, in visions of fire and smoke.” Her eyes drifted over to Jason. She looked at him with an intensity that Dick had never seen before. It sent shivers up his spine. Jason shifted on his feet, clearly unnerved by her eyes. “Ra’s Al Ghul,” she whispered, her browns knitting.

“Yes. Ra’s Al Ghul,” Dick said. He turned back to the rest of the Titans.

Raven’s eyes were still glued onto Jason. Jason felt as if she were drilling holes through him. No, it was more like she was peeling the skin off of him, pulling away his muscles, and cracking open his skull to see inside his mind. He didn’t like it.

“But the Joker…he’s the one that killed Jason. He tortured him, beat him, posted a video of it online for everyone to see. People actually voted for his death.” Dick saw all the Titans grimace as horror and disbelief crossed their faces. “Then he was resurrected. He still suffers. Joker killed Jason. Joker kills everyone. His body count is high in the hundreds! I’m not saying that I condemn murder, all I’m doing is trying to protect my brother.”

Everyone was quiet. 

All that could be heard was the wind hitting the cliff, the waves crashing up against the slippery wet rocks, and manic laughter forever drifting towards them.

“Afterwords,” Dick said, after minutes had passed. “Afterwords we can charge him with murder.”

More silence. 

It was more than a little unnerving.

“Look,” Jason said, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, “can we get a move on things. I wanna get to that rat bastard before the night is over.”

Beast Boy leaned forward and jabbed a finger here. “Alright, listen here you. If you think for one second that we’re gonna help you out, then you’re–”

“I’m what?” Jason asked, marching right up to him. He towered over Beast Boy, and glared down at him. “You tell me how this is wrong! Any of you!” He swept his gaze across the rocks, looking at all their faces in turn. “You tell me how you can justify his life! Tell me why you value his life! Tell me why you’ll defend a vicious serial killer but not his victim. You’re all bat-shit fucking crazy if you tell me I shouldn’t!” Tears were starting to sting his eyes, and he didn’t care. “Why?! Why?! Why defend the Joker? Huh? You fucking tell me!” 

No one answered him.

“So no one can, huh?” he asked. He clenched his jaw to stop if from trembling. “Honestly, you call yourselves heroes? You defend him, then you’re basically condemning murder! You save a murderer, then you’re on the side of the criminals! You put the innocent people in jeopardy because of you’re stupid fucking moral codes. You ally yourself with those murderers every time you spare them! How the fuck can you not see that?” he shouted at them. “Saving killers, all so that they can kill again. To do that, you must be the sickest person alive.”

Beast Boy looked down at his shoes; Starfire down at the rocks. Cyborg shifted his eyes to the side. Raven’s eyes unfocused, but her eyes were still fixed on the both of them. Dick himself: his eyes were aimed at Jason’s face, but he couldn’t see him. He could only see Jason’s words, as if they were floating in the air before him. He read them over and over. 

Jason’s voice cracked as he began speaking again. “If you’re going to save a killer,” he said, “then save this killer. Save me. The number of killers in the world will stay the same, but the body count will go down.”

All the Titans, former and present, looked at him. Really looked at him. They saw him, they saw his words, they saw his hurt, they saw his drive. They saw everything at that moment. The world felt like it was tipping beneath them; even Starfire, as she floated in the air, felt as if she was unbalanced. 

Jason pointed across the waters, following the sound of ghostly, echoing laughter. “Take me over to him,” Jason demanded, his voice as cold and hard as steel. “Now.”

No one moved for the longest of time. Time didn’t really seem to make sense to them now, anyway. It felt like they were trapped in a single second, locked at this point in time forever, like the words they’d spoken had been said over a course of years instead of minutes. 

Starfire was the first to move. She flew down over to him, picked up Jason and his duffel bag, and flew him across the waves.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have to put a major warning on this. There is some very, very, very graphic violence in this, along with very graphic torture. So, yeah, approach with caution, as this is some graphic stuff.

The Joker's laughter echoed through the air, carrying on the wind. His laugh was cracked and hoarse from the sea water he'd swallowed on his swim to the rocky outcroppings, but he didn't care. The laughter stung his throat, tore his throat raw, but he kept laughing until veins bulged in his forehead and he was gasping for air.

He blindly reached out for something, and his gloved hand found a sharp rock. He pulled himself up onto his feet, staggering, and the rocks cutting through his gloves and his skin. Warm blood tricked out of his veins and started soaking his already drenched gloves. The Joker lifted his hand up to his eyes, trying to inspect it in the dark.

"Can't see…" he mumbled to himself. He flicked his tongue out and licked the blood off of him, then let the flavor rest on his tongue. "Hmm…I've had worse. But then again, I've had better…" He laughed at his own stupid joke.

His hoarse laugher was so loud that he didn't hear the sound of soft footfall near him. He didn't hear the sound of boots on the slippery rocks, or see the faint green glow of alien eyes watching him in the darkness. He didn't notice anything.

Joker put a hand to his forehead, calming down from his laughing fits. He sighed loudly, and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. But just as he had started calming down, he began chuckling to himself again. It was full-throated laughter, or even believable laughter. It was forced chuckles that he had to push from his throat.

"So…" Joker said to himself, "how am I going to get back there?"

He spun around to face the distant cliff, only to come face to face with a gun. He was close enough that he was looking directly down the barrel. He swallowed audibly, and tugged at his collar.

"Geezuz cheezuz. You Gotham coppers sure are getting bold." He chuckled again. "I wonder why that might be. After a thousand murders, do I move up to the next level?" His cruel laughter filled the night air. "And what level might I be on anyway? Level 2? Level 10? Level 89?" More laughter.

Always that same fucking damnable laughter.

Jason's heart rate picked up, and he started to feel like he was suffocating. He was on the verge of another panic attack. He bit his lip. He didn't want to kill the Joker just yet.

He wanted to torture him. And right before that sick light left his eyes, he wanted The Joker to know who he was, and that karma had finally dealt it's hand, and that he would die. He wanted to smell fear on that clown. He wanted to smell blood.

Just before The Joker could say anymore, Jason's hand shot out. A crow bar collided with Joker's skull, and he was knocked to the ground. He tried scurrying away, pathetically kicking his shoes against the slippery rock but to no avail. He only got a few inches away before the crow bar came down on him again.

This time it struck him on the chest. Joker grunted in pain, but it wasn't enough. Jason brought the crowbar down again and again, repeatedly bashing his ribs until he was sure one of them was broken. He wanted more broken then that. He kept at it.

Joker laughed, and he started coughing up blood. At least two cracked ribs now. Jason stopped beating him with the crowbar, and stood back up, putting a boot on his injured side and putting his full weight on it. The Joker then yowled in pain. An audible snap could be heard.

Starfire winced at the sound. She looked away and backed up, not wanting to witness this. She grimaced as she heard gurgling laughter and the loud thud of a boot to Joker's ribs. As the beatings continued, she flew further away, putting her hands over her ears, trying to block it all out.

Memories were starting to resurface in her mind. Memories of the Gordainians and the Citadel, of her escapes and her violence. And the violence inflicted upon her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and floated over the sea water, just trying to distance herself from it.

Jason swung his foot back, and with as much force as he could, he kicked The Joker right between the legs. A satisfied smile crossed his face when he saw tears streaking down Joker's face, and heard the most sickening cry of pain he'd ever heard in his life.

Despite the warm happiness he felt in his chest at his revenge–his sweet, sweet revenge–he felt claws closing around his heart, squeezing his chest. He tried to convince himself that it was the effects of the almost-panic-attack, but he didn't believe it. He knew that it was his guilty conscience. It was that horrible feeling in his gut and heart that he was hurting another person.

He ignored it. Fought against that goody-two-shoes side of him. This was The Joker. Images of his death still haunted him. He would probably have panic attacks for years to come. He thought of all of his victims, the ones who hadn't come back to life. The ones who were terminally ill or fatally wounded, laying in the hospital with IV tubes in them. He thought of his hideous face just before he poured the gasoline all over his own body, making sure to get it into his eyes and mouth.

He raised the crowbar for another hit, but his hand stopped. It was frozen in the air, Jason's hand not moving an inch. He grit his teeth, trying to bring it down, to smash it on Joker's skull and try to crack it open.

Instead, he dropped the crowbar.

With his now-free hand, he grabbed The Joker by the collar and yanked him up, forced Joker to look at him.

"Do you know who I am?" Jason asked him. His voice was like poison.

"Nooo, I honestly can say that I doOoOoOo not!" Joker said. He didn't try to laugh; too much blood was in his throat. But he still smiled, his bloody red lips pulling back to reveal bloody red teeth.

"Oh yes you do!" Jason shot back at him.

"I do not!" Joker replied, a chuckle dying at the back of his throat. "And…if you knew the answer…" he sucked in breath as pain shot through his lung, "then why did you ask the question?"

Jason's grip on the gun tightened. Oh, how he wanted to just kill that clown-faced, chuckling bastard and be done with it. But he couldn't let The Joker have such an easy escape. If death was as great a relief to him as it was to Joker, then Jason wanted him to never have it. He wanted The Joker to rot in Hell, in Tartarus, in Naraka. He wanted him to suffer, and suffer badly.

"I'll refresh your memory then," Jason said. "Ethiopia. A warehouse. You, me, a crowbar." He paused to let the memory sink it. "Remember now?" he asked.

"Bird boy?" The Joker asked, slightly awestruck. "Why, cute little birdy boy. You've grown. And gotten a lot more vicious, I applaud you for that." He tried to laugh but failed again. "Let me guess, let me guess…" The Joker mumbled. "You're gonna torture me until I die. Right? Right?"

"Right on the nose," Jason said, tightening the grip on his collar until he was choking. The sound of pained breathing got even worse, like crunching water.

"Birdy boy," Joker choked out, "tell me something. Did it hurt…when Batsy got a new play thing…?"

Jason grit his teeth.

"Your body wasn't even cold yet, and already Bats had another Boy Blunder running around with him."

Jason raised the gun, looping his finger into the trigger.

"Oh, oh, oh. Another thing…birdy boy… Was it intimate?"

"What?!" Jason snapped, his eyes widening behind the mask.

"You…and Batsy…did the two of you used to fuck?"

Jason put the gun against The Joker's temple. His finger was just itching to pull the trigger.

"Heh heh, I hit a nerve, didn't I?" Joker asked, a dark chuckle escaping from him. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Jason's hand moved, and he pulled the trigger. Joker yowled in pain as a bullet tore through his hip. Jason didn't smile this time. He didn't feel that same satisfied warmth he felt earlier. He just felt empty and disgusted. How dare The Joker even suggest something so vile? The hand clutching his collar shook, and Jason had no choice but to drop him.

The Joker's badly beaten body fell down on the rocks, sending jolts of pain racing up along his spine and through all his nerves. He grunted and moaned in pain, not even trying to hide his discomfort.

Jason stepped on his wrist before he could roll over. The bones snapped. Tears were streaking down Joker's face, but Jason just couldn't enjoy it anymore.

Did you and Batman used to fuck? Who the fuck would ask something like that?

Jason ground his boot into him, making the shattered pieces of bone dig into his tendons and muscles.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do Joker," Jason said. "I'm not going to kill you." Because somehow, someway, his heart just wasn't in it anymore. "But I am going to leave you for dead."

"You're so kind," he joked, blood trickling down his lip.

"No," Jason snapped. "Kind would be me killing you right here and right now. That'd release you from the pain. Instead, you're going to lie here and suffer. When the pain from the broken bones doesn't kill you, when the pain from the collapsed lung doesn't kill you, when the pain from gunshot doesn't kill you, hunger will get you. The sea will get you. Blood loss will get you. Suffocation from your blood-filled lungs will get you. No matter how you die, it'll be the most painful death in history."

The Joker gave a small laugh.

Jason didn't have any more to say. He took his boot off of The Joker's wrist, stepped back, and fire the gun twice. Both bullets landed in each of his knee caps. A scream and a laugh followed both. Jason bound Joker's hands and feet, and then handcuffed them together twice. He made sure that they cut into his skin, making them red and raw.

Jason stepped back to admire his handiwork, and that's when the self-loathing hit him. Only then did he see what a monster he'd become, and what he'd done. He'd just brutally tortured someone, and he had enjoyed it. He'd loved it. It made him feel warm inside and he wasn't terrified of it. Disgust crossed his face as he realized just what he was, and just what he'd done. He took another step back, then another.

Only now did he notice that Starfire was gone.

He couldn't blame her. If watching him beat and torture someone wasn't enough to make someone sick, then surely guilt of her letting it happen was.

"I'm done with you now," Jason told Joker.

He never responded.

Jason turned around, searching for a way back to the Titans' rock. Starfire had flown away, and he'd feel foolish calling out and waving his arms for one of them to come get him. Of all the things Joker had laughed at, that would never be one of them.

He stood there on the edge, hand on a sharp rock, waiting to figure out what to do.

He didn't have to wait long. A chill ran up and down his spine, and the shadows darkened. Raven's silhouette appeared beside him, as she stepped out of her self-created shadow. She said nothing, but gestured for him to come closer. Jason went over, stood beside her, and they were both enveloped in darkness.

Raven took him back over to the rest of the Titans. Now he'd have to face the aftermath.


	21. Chapter 21

Raven's black wings slid silently across the bay. The rest of the Titans were no longer standing on their rock in the middle of the bay, but were now up on the cliffside, standing on the road by the broken metal railings and searching the dark for some sign of them.

Raven followed her empathic senses towards them.

A shadowy black raven stopped before them, dropping Jason out of it's hold and sinking back into Raven's body.

Jason's teeth chattered and shivers ran up and down his spine. That was by far the creepiest thing he had ever experienced. Never again did he want to step into that shadowy thing Raven traveled around in. No, no, no. Never again. He tried his best not to let it show, though.

The last thing he needed was people seeing him unnerved and skittish.

"Well…" Dick muttered. "Did…is…?"

Jason made no response. Not only was he still on edge from flying with Raven, but he didn't want to talk to them. Any of them. Self righteous, good-for-nothing heroes. He was still angry, deep down. And, even farther down, he was beginning to regret leaving Joker alive.

_He'll escape,_ said a voice in his head. _He'll live, and he'll kill and torture some more. You should have killed him. Secured his death. Torturing him was vengeance, killing him was justice._

And Jason hadn't given the world justice.

"No," he barked at last, startling them all.

No one said anything at first, too stunned by his sudden outburst to know what he said. As the word turned over in their minds, they were still too stunned to believe it. Jason had left the Joker alive?

Dick's mouth felt dry. "No?" he asked incredulously. "But-–"

"Just let it go," Jason snapped at him. He glared at his brother, his eyes seeming to burn holes straight through him. "I did what I did."

"I'm glad you're not a killer, Jason," Dick said.

Jason shoved Dick to the ground, and raised his foot to kick him when Starfire caught it in her fist. He turned on her, teeth bared and eyes blazing.

She looked back, the same feral look on her face. "You will not harm him," she growled, and there was a savagery in her voice that subdued him.

Dick picked himself up from the ground and brushed himself off, glaring at Jason the whole time. "That was unnecessary," he said. Jason growled again, deep in his throat. "Don't growl at me," Dick snapped back. Under his breath, he added, "Jackass."

Despite Starfire still floating next to him, Jason's fist shot forward and landed on Dick's eye. He shouted in pain and stumbled back. In an instant, Starfire had struck him with one of her starbolts, searing the skin on his arm and burning away any fabric that covered him.

Jason was about to turn on her too when Cyborg cut in, grabbing them both with his mechanical hands. "Enough! All of you! We will not fight amongst ourselves." His voice was stern, and it made them obey.

"So what do we do now?" Beast Boy asked in a small voice.

Everyone glanced at him, thinking the same thing.

"I guess we head back," Dick replied. Now all eyes were on him. He didn't seem to care anymore, not about the glares and vacant stares, not about Joker and whether he was dead or alive, or even about the cold night air that bit at his body. It was just that he didn't know what else to do.

Jason had done what he had planned on doing.

That was that.

It should be over.

If Jason was planning on going back and finishing the job, he never said so. Never let on that that's what he wanted to do. So what else? All that was left to do was either go back home and pretend that things were normal again, or stand out on the cold, empty highway with an eerie dread filling all of them.

They silently all came to that agreement. There was nothing else to do but go back. They couldn't stay there forever, wondering and waiting. Time wasn't standing still. Life goes on. What was left of it, anyway.

"No!" Jason suddenly said. "I'm not going back. Not yet. I'm staying here."

"Why?" Dick asked.

Jason walked back over to the broken metal railing, and sat down on the edge of the cliff. "Because I need to know," he muttered. "I need to know if he dies. I need to know if he suffers. If I hear that laugh one more time, then I know that he's alive."

"But Jason…" Dick said, the anger rising up in him again.

"What? What is it now? Can't you just leave me be?"

Dick was so agitated with him that he was ready to give up. "Fine," he snapped at him. "Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care. I don't care anymore. I keep offering you help and you don't ever fucking want it."

Jason sat silently on the cliff's edge.

Dick grit his teeth at the silence. "Fine!" he shouted again. "I don't care what happens to you!"

"But I do," said a voice in the dark.

Deep and gravelly, making all the Titans back away from the two brothers and the newcomer. Out of the shadows he came, cape trailing behind him, eye slits in his mask narrowed, a scowl deep on his face.

Batman.

Dick was too stunned to say anything, and Jason just didn't care to. His focus was out to sea, listening and waiting. When the sun rose the next morning, he would search for a body, and hopefully he would know. He clenched his jaw and strained his eyes, trying to ignore everything else around him.

"Both of you are coming with me," Batman growled at them.

Still, neither of them said anything.

The Titans had all but shrunk away, leaving the family drama just that: _family_ drama. They sure as hell weren't ready to get involved.

"Now," Batman added.

Still there was silence.

When neither Dick nor Jason moved, Batman grabbed Dick's arm in his fist, meaning to drag him along the pavement if that's what it took.

"Hey!" Dick said, trying to yank his arm away. Batman held tight to him, not letting him go. His grip was tight enough to bruise him, and Dick just kept trying to pull away.

"I'm disappointed in both of you," Batman said to them, addressing Jason as well. Batman took a few steps forward, standing right behind Jason. "Theft, torture, intent to murder, reckless endangerment…"

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Jason snapped back at him, finally having found his voice. "Reckless endangerment? That's rich, coming from the man who takes children out with him at night to fight some of the world's most dangerous criminals. Reckless endangerment? If there was any justice in the world, you would have gone to prison for making me a Robin."

Batman grabbed Jason's collar and yanked him up to his feet. Jason didn't turn to look at him, but instead just stared out at sea, watching and waiting.

"You have me arrested for giving the Joker what he deserves, I'll have you arrested for all the crimes you've committed," Jason told him.

Batman's grip on Jason's collar tightened, and it was starting to choke him. Jason didn't care. He'd been strangled plenty of times before, so this was nothing.

"And what crimes have I committed?" Batman growled at him.

"Reckless endangerment, child endangerment, tampering with evidence, torture of criminals, use of enhanced interrogation methods, break ins, breaking and entering, spying on government agencies, spying on civilians, private use of military grade weaponry and spy equipment, harboring military secrets, the list goes on and on…" Jason said. Finally, he turned to face Batman. "Which ones do you think the court would convict you on?" he asked.

Batman's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Dick thought he heard his teeth scrape up against each other.

"Oh, and let's not forget about the time you teamed up with Ra's Al Ghul. Conspiring with an international terrorist. You think they'll let you off the hook for that one?"

"Jason," Batman growled, "everything I've ever done is to keep the world a safer place to live. If that means taking you off the streets, I'll do just that. Even if it means you'll try to have me arrested. I'll do what I know is right."

"Is indoctrinating children into crime fighting right?" Jason demanded.

Batman only said, "You wanted justice, it was better that I could keep an eye on you while you went out and patrolled the streets."

"And what about Barbara?" Jason asked him.

Dick's eyes got wide and he looked around at the Titans. They didn't know who Barbara was, and he was sure that Barbara didn't want them to know. They still had their thing about secret identities.

"Jason!" Dick hissed. "Careful."

"What about her?" Batman asked.

"Does Gordon know about her? About her 'after school activities?' I'm sure he'd love to know that you're risking her life at least twice a night," Jason said.

"Enough of this," Batman said, dragging both Dick and Jason with him. "We're going to the police. Now."

Batman marched off towards the South, his fists closed around both of his sons, dragging them back towards the mess of police cars that was about a mile down the road. Dick and Jason didn't put up much resistance, but followed him anyway, feeling like two leashed children.

"Wait!"

Cyborg stepped in front of Batman, and said, "If everything he said is true--" Cyborg pointed to Jason "--then there should be no reason for you to turn him in. He's done nothing that you haven't. Why bother?"

"I've never tortured someone to death," Batman said. "Now get out of my way."

"Not until I get some answers."

Batman glared at Cyborg. Cyborg glared right back.

"Jason said he didn't kill the Joker, so clearly he didn't torture someone to death. You can't turn him in for that, especially if you're guilty of 'enhanced interrogation methods.'" Cyborg took a step forward, and crossed him arms. "I've heard of you dangling criminals over the edge of a sixty-story skyscraper just to get some answers. How's that legal?"

"Get out of my way," Batman repeated again. His voice had taken on an almost feral tone.

"I've told you before, not until I get some answers."

Dick had mixed emotions about this. On one hand, he was ashamed that Cyborg should see him like this, standing behind Batman and being handled like some naughty child. He wanted Batman to let him go and to just leave. Not even leave him alone, but leave this place and never even talk to him again. On the other hand, he was proud of Cyborg...if you could call it pride. He was glad to see Cyborg vouching for him, for his adopted brother, and for standing up to Batman. 

"What answers?" Batman asked. "Do you think that they should just go free, after potentially murdering someone?"

Cyborg was quiet for a minute. Then, "Why not? If you've tortured someone before, and you haven't turned yourself in, then why should you turn them in? And before you say anything about intent to kill, I'm going to remind you, that the only person who's ever died here is him." Cyborg pointed to Jason again. 

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Batman said. "All you're doing is taking shots in the dark. Going off of what you heard Jason say. You're wrong on many different accounts."

"Am I?" Cyborg asked. "So you've never tortured someone for information? You've never stolen anything? You've never endangered anyone's life unnecessarily before."

Silence.

"All I'm saying," Cyborg continued, "is that if you go free for those crimes, they should go free. I don't know what kind of justice you deal out, or what kind of justice you think you deal out, but I know that this is only fair. Not just, but fair." He left it at that.

Batman was quiet for a long time. Jason doubted that Cyborg had convinced him. No one could ever convince Batman of anything. It would be easier to convince a brick wall of something. So, when Batman dropped both of their arms, letting him and Dick go, shock coursed through him. 

Dick and Jason stared wide-eyed at Batman, wondering if he had actually changed his mind, or if he was letting go of their arms for a different reason. They waited for their answer.

"So long as no one dies, I can let this go," Batman said at last.

Before anyone could do anything, Batman jumped from the cliff, diving down into the water of the bay. Jason ran to the edge, looking out over the water. With a pang in his gut, more painful than any bullet, he realized that Batman was going after the Joker.

"He's going to save him!" Jason shouted. Tears sprung up into his eyes. Hot, angry tears coupled with a feral scream. "He's going to save him!" Without thinking, Jason whipped out his gun and started firing randomly into the water. "He's going to save him!" he said again. Bullet after bullet rang out. Dick and Cyborg grabbed his arm, trying to wrench the gun out of his hand, but he kept pulling the trigger. Bullets were fired off into the air, and soon the wail of a single police siren was heard.

"They must think the Joker is firing the gun," Starfire said to Raven. "They are coming after us."

"Then we need to go," Raven replied.

Raven let her soul self escape her body, a black shadow entering Jason's body, rendering him unconscious and making him drop the gun. Dick caught him before he could hit the ground, and Cyborg kicked the gun far, far away from them. In a split second, Raven's shadow had swept over all of them, capturing them all in her dark powers, and she flew them all away quickly just as the police car rounded the corner.


	22. Chapter 22

Jason beat at the walls of the interrogation room. He pounded on the thick glass windows with his fists, over and over again until they became bruised and bloody. He couldn't crack the glass, but if he didn't stop soon he would break himself.

"He saved the Joker! He saved the Joker!" He kept screaming those words, over and over again, until the whole room was echoing with his screeches.

From behind the two-way mirror, the Titans watched, unsure of what to do.

Dick sat quietly in his chair, his hands folded on the table, him looking down at them vacantly. No one could tell what he was thinking, but it was hard to think with Jason's screams, anyway. Dick didn't seem to notice Jason's screams. He seemed so out of it, dazed, like he was floating in a different world.

"Do you think we should have put Ro–Richard in a different room?" Starfire asked.

"No. I don't think it would have made much of a difference," Cyborg replied. "Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on both of them this way."

"Should someone at least attempt to do the downward calming of Jason?" Starfire asked.

"I don't think it would work. He's too worked up. At this point, I think the best we can do it to just let him work through it. Wait it out, y'know?" Cyborg watched as Jason punched the glass, over and over again until he howled in pain, clutching his knuckles. Cyborg knew that he had probably just broken them.

"I think he's gonna need medical attention in a little bit," Cyborg said.

"You sure we shouldn't separate them?" Raven asked. "All that negative energy in there can't be good for either of them."

"For right now, it'll work," Cyborg replied. He sighed, and leaned forward, leaning on a ledge. He didn't know what to do with them.

Dick wasn't really doing anything aside from sitting and waiting, and Jason was only beating the frustration out of himself. If things went well, they could all sit down and talk like reasonable people, try to figure out what to do next, what course they should take. Whether Jason should go to jail or not, whether Dick would remain on the team or not, what the Titans should tell the general public, what course of action they could all agree upon. But, seeing as how things were going, that wouldn't happen any time soon.

Right now, it came down to just the four of them observing. They hadn't started talking yet, and none of them were eager to. They knew they had a long, hard, possibly violent talk in front of them.

"What should we do?" Raven asked.

They all knew what she meant.

"I don't know," Cyborg replied. "But I think that if Robin still wants to be on the team, we should let him remain on the team."

"What of the Red X?" Starfire asked. "Jason, I mean. Robin offered him a place on the team. Should we let him on?"

"If Robin's not on the team, then it's not his place to let others on the team," Beast Boy piped up. "Besides, he'll make anyone an Honorary Titan. I just don't think he's cut out to be one, though."

"Jason still attempted to kill Joker, and then he attempted to kill Batman," Raven stated. "We need to take that into consideration."

"Please, we should be getting Richard out of there," Starfire said, placing her hands and forehead on the glass. "I do not think it is the most healthy for him to be within the room with Jason."

"He'll be fine," Beast Boy said, crossing his arms.

"Let's start with something simple," Cyborg said. "If Robin wants back on the team, should we let him?"

"Yes," Starfire immediately said.

"I dunno," Beast Boy said. "I mean, he's been kinda loopy ever since this whole Jason business started."

"For once, I agree with Beast Boy," Raven said. "He has been ill-tempered, illogical, and not acting like himself. I think it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him, to see if he gets better from his current state, but suppose he stays like this. I don't think that he would do well with this team anymore."

"So what'd'you guys say?" Cyborg asked them all.

Raven and Beast Boy turned their heads to look at Dick, sitting quietly in the interrogation room while Jason raged around him.

"I think," Raven spoke up, "that if he wants to stay on the team, we should let him, but he shouldn't be in a position of leadership. He should be demoted."

"Yeah, what she said," Beast Boy agreed.

Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy turned to look at Starfire, wondering what she would say. She watched Dick for another minute before sighing and said, "I agree with Raven. If he stays, he shouldn't be leader."

"So who should be leader then?" Beast Boy asked. He smiled and rubbed his nails on his uniform. "Because, if you need someone to lead–"

"Not now, BB," Cyborg said. "We'll decide that when the time is right. Right now, there are more important items to discuss."

In the interrogation room, Jason was finally starting to calm down. He had hurt himself so much that the throbbing pain was starting to overwhelm him. He sat down in the chair across from Dick, hunched over and grimacing.

"Raven," Cyborg said, "in a few minutes, go in and check on them. See if he needs healing."

Raven nodded.

"What be the next question?" Starfire asked.

"What should we do with Red X?" Cyborg asked. "If he doesn't give up his life of crime, then clearly we should hand him over to the police and let them handle him. But suppose he does give it up. Should we let him go free?"

"Yes," Raven said. "You vouched for him earlier. If he swears to go clean, then we should give him a chance, if only to uphold what you said earlier."

"I dunno," Beast Boy said. "He's pretty shifty to me. Plenty of people lie just to go free, especially criminals like him. If he says he'll stop robbing people, and we just let him go, then what does that say about us?"

"Those are both good points," Cyborg said. "Star, what do you think?"

"I do not know what to think," she whispered. A long moment of silence passed before she said, "But I do believe in second chances. I think we should give him that."

"To go further with this, what about letting him on the team?" Cyborg asked.

"No," Raven said.

"No way," Beast Boy said.

"Starfire?" Cyborg asked, turning to look at her. She was quiet, watching the two men through the glass. They didn't think she would ever answer.

"What do you think, Cyborg?" Starfire asked him, turning to look at him. "You haven't been voicing opinions of your's much."

"Honestly, I don't think we should," he said. "It would be a bad idea to let him on the team just because of family relations. We need to know we can trust him to be a part of the Titans, and so far he's given us no proof."

Starfire nodded. "I can see the logic in that," she said. "I will agree with you."

"Anything else?" Beast Boy asked. "Or are we finally done here?"

"We haven't even started," Cyborg replied.

"We need to speak to them, too," Raven told him, gesturing to the two-way mirror. "What they say and do will determine our decisions more than what we have just talked about. And it will not be easy. Ro–Richard has all but shut down and Jason is far too unruly to have a conversation with."

"We should put them in the medical bay," Starfire said, walking over to join her friends. "That way, their wounds will heal, they will have the time to do the thinking, and they might be like who they once were. Yes?"

"They'll never be who they once were," Raven told her. She put a hand on Starfire's shoulder. "Too many things have happened. I'm sorry."

Starfire looked down at the ground. Her jaw was starting to quiver, but she pretended like nothing was wrong. She nodded and choked out, "The okay." She looked away from Raven, from Cyborg and Beast Boy, from the two-way mirror. She stared at the ground, seeing nothing but her own thoughts in her head.

"We should put them in the medical bay," Raven said, hoping that would cheer Starfire up a little.

Luckily, Raven saw the hint of a smile tug at Starfire's lips, and felt her emotions turn from dismal to having a small glimmer of happiness inside her.

"Yeah," Cyborg said with a sigh. "We should."

He looked through the two-way mirror, carefully observing Dick and Jason. It was oddly quiet then, for Jason's lack of screaming made the air feel eerily empty. The two of them were just sitting at the table, but when Cyborg looked closer he could see Jason's lips moving. They were discussing something.

He couldn't hear them, so he turned the speaker up. It didn't do much help; their whispers cracked in the speakers. Clearly, it was a private conversation. Cyborg narrowed his eye.

He turned and exited the room. Starfire saw him enter the interrogation room a minute later, talking to the two of them. "We're gonna put you in the medical bay," he told the both of them. "You both have injuries that we need to address, and you–" he looked at Jason "–have made your's worse by beating yourself up in here."

Jason rolled his eyes at him but said nothing.

Cyborg looked back to Dick. "Come on," he said, gesturing for him to stand. "Let's get you both in the bay."

Dick shook his head. "No. I'm fine."

"Robin, we've been through this before–"

"I'm not Robin anymore!" Dick snapped. Jason seemed unsurprised by that news. "I meant what I said. I can't be a part of this team anymore."

"Robin, relax. You just need some sleep and–"

"No," Dick snapped again. "Stop treating me like a child! Don't you see? I can make my life decisions on my own, without help from you, and I've decided to leave this team!"

"But why?" Starfire had entered the interrogation room, and was now looking at Dick pleadingly. "Why must you leave the Titan team? We work well together, and you are our dearest friend. Please. I do not wish for you to leave."

"Hey, if you really, really wanted me to, I could stay," Jason said, trying his best to flirt, but it came out flat instead. His heart just wasn't in it.

Starfire ignored him.

She took a step towards Dick, and grasped his hands in hers. "Please. Do you not see? You are essential to this team, to our lives…to my life. Robin, if you leave, you will be missed sorely by all. Don't go."

Tears were starting to form in her eyes, and she didn't try to blink them away. She let them streak down her cheeks, never taking her eyes away from Dick's mask-less eyes.

"Aw, Dick, just stay," Jason said. He didn't want to see anyone crying. "Come on, think about what you're giving up. What you have here, it's paradise. I'm the one who has nothing to lose, remember?"

"If you feel that way, then why don't you join the Titans?" Dick snapped at him.

"Please," Jason scoffed. "You really think I'd be let on the team?" He looked at Cyborg. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Cyborg replied. "We all agreed that you could not join us. Not for a long time."

Jason looked back at Dick. "Ya see?"

Quietly, Beast Boy and Raven slipped into the room. They both stayed near the corners, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

"Look, all of you! I've made up my mind. I'm leaving this team. That's final," Dick said.

"Will you at least come back to us someday?" Starfire asked, her words broken and slurred.

"Maybe. Probably. Someday," he replied.

"Why, X'hal?" she whispered in Tamaranian. "Why must I lose him?"

"Question," Jason broke in. Three sets of eyes turned to him. "What's to happen to me?"

They were all quiet for about a minute. Finally, Cyborg spoke up and said, "We've decided that you cannot join the Titans given your current track record…"

"Well that's a given," Jason said.

"However, we will let you go free only on these conditions. One: you give up crime for good, and I mean all crime. Including petty theft. Two: you return the Red X suit you stole. And three: you swear to keep all that has transpired here a secret."

Jason said, "I'll keep your secrets, and the suit's in my bag you confiscated. As for crime, there's no way I can give that up." Before anyone could say anything, he added, "Theft was what kept me alive when I was on the streets. Stealing food to eat, stealing tires for money to pay for rent, stealing shoes so I wouldn't have to walk around barefoot when my old ones fell apart. I can't just give it up like that."

"Then we have no choice but to detain you," Cyborg said.

"Sure, send me to jail. After you vouched for me like that in front of Batman, I thought you'd honor that. You didn't turn in Batman, why turn in me?"

"Because Batman works only for the good of Gotham, and for the further good of a much bigger picture. You steal for the fun of it," Cyborg replied.

Jason scoffed and crossed his arms, glaring at the window pane.

"I think we can have a compromise," Raven said, stepping forward. She walked over so she stood in Jason's line of sight. "You return the Red X suit and belt, and swear your secrecy on the power of Azarath, and you can return home to Selina. Deal?"

Jason looked her over. She looked just as strange now as the day he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Deal," he said, not even thinking about it.

"Swear on the power of Azarath."

Jason sighed, uncrossed his arms, and held up one hand. "I swear on the power of Azarath–"

"No," Raven said. "It must be done correctly." She unbuckled her belt and placed it in Jason's palms. She made him clutch his fists around it, and then begin again.

"I, Jason Peter Todd of Gotham, swear upon the power of Azarath that I shall keep what has transpired within the last week a secret from all."

When he was done, he tossed Raven her belt back, and stormed out the door.

"Someone should make sure he gets back alright," Cyborg muttered to Beast Boy, and he slipped out from the room.

Raven slipped out with him, wanting to make sure that Beast Boy didn't screw up what he was doing again.

Cyborg watched Starfire and Dick for another second before he too turned and left the room.

"Why, Richard," Starfire whispered when they were all alone. "Why must you leave?"

"Because I have to do this," he said. His eyes were dry, but Starfire heard (hoped) a slight tremble to his voice. "I know you understand. You know me, Starfire."

Dick stood up to leave.

"Let go, Star," he said, trying to pull his hands away from hers. Starfire held fast to them.

"I can go with you," she said.

"No. I want to be alone. I need to be alone." He paused. "Maybe you don't understand after all," he said in a dark voice. He wretched his hands away from hers, and headed towards the door.

"Can I at least know where you will go?" Starfire asked.

"I don't know where I'm going," Dick replied. "But I won't be in Jump City. I'm thinking maybe…Bludhaven."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning a sequel to this story, but don't expect anything soon.


End file.
